


Supermen

by Tuttle4077



Series: Evil Scientist Universe [2]
Category: Hogan's Heroes (TV 1965)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:03:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 35,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28836036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tuttle4077/pseuds/Tuttle4077
Summary: The arrival of a new guard sets the boys on another adventure.
Series: Evil Scientist Universe [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2113392





	1. Peace and Quiet Lost

**Author's Note:**

> This is a response to a challenge issued on FFN and is a sequel to Whispering Sour Somethings (although it's not necessary to read that story to understand this one)

**Supermen**

**Luft Stalag 13, Germany**

**September 15th, 1943**

Peace and quiet. Those were two words that he didn't hear often, much less use. But there was no denying that they were a perfect fit for a day like today. A cool breeze announced the change of seasons, of summer turning to fall. Outside the camp the leaves on the trees were slowly turning from green to yellow. And somewhere, he thought he could hear birds singing. In short, it was a beautiful day.

To top it off, London had not sent them a mission in over a week. Usually that kind of silence would drive him mad, but right now he welcomed the chance to settle down. About three weeks ago, he and his men had had quite the adventure when they had stopped a particularly nasty Nazi plot to brainwash the Allies via subliminal messaging on the Berlin Betty radio broadcast. It resulted in having to send home an entire bombing crew, including a traitor, a wounded captain, and the titular radio host- a task they had just completed only a few days ago.

Needless to say, Colonel Robert E. Hogan was glad for the chance to cool down.

Leaning against the outside wall of his barracks, Hogan watched a football game taking place in the compound. From the whooping and hollering taking place, Hogan figured he wasn't the only one that welcomed the break. Generally being a prisoner of war was a boring business, but he and his men were not ordinary prisoners. Instead, they ran the most successful underground operation of the war. Genuine football games were few and far between- most were simply distractions for the guards. So now the men were taking full advantage of their free time.

Hogan heard the barracks door open and slid his gaze over to see Kinch stepping out. The sergeant came up beside him and leaned against the wall as well.

"Message from London, Colonel," Kinch said, and for a moment Hogan wondered if the peace and quiet was about to be broken. "Our packages arrived safely. London's pretty steamed that you didn't get any pictures or plans for that radio setup though."

Figured. Hogan sighed and then shrugged. "That's the way the ball bounces. Maybe Miss Berger will be able to tell them something. They got any missions for us?"

"Not at the moment. But who knows, maybe something will fall into our laps before then."

At that very moment, the sound of a car pulling up to the main gate caught their attention. Hogan raised an eyebrow. "Did you know that was going to happen, Kinch?" Kinch shook his head, looking both amused and surprised. "Well great timing, anyway."

"What do you think it is?" Kinch asked.

"Dunno, but we'll find out soon enough."

The football game broke up as the car pulled into the compound. Within seconds Carter, LeBeau and Newkirk jogged over, and took up the task of holding up the wall with Hogan and Kinch. "Who could that be?" Newkirk asked.

"Someone important?" Carter speculated.

"It cannot be a social call- who would visit Klink?" LeBeau said with a snort.

"All right, all right, hold it. It could be nothing," Hogan said as he watched the car intently. It came to a stop in front of the Kommandantur. The driver got out and ran up the steps to Klink's office.

Hogan tried to get a good look at the passengers, but all he could tell was that it was someone he didn't recognize.

Their attention turned away from the car when they heard another vehicle pull up at the gates. It was a light truck. "I bet whoever it is has something important in there," Carter mused.

"Brilliant," Newkirk muttered.

The door to the Kommandantur opened and Schultz hurried out, followed by Klink and the driver. The latter two stayed on the steps, while Schultz stepped into the compound. The sergeant of the guard motioned for a few of him men to join him.

"All the prisoners into the barracks. Back, back, back!" He and the other guards spread out, shepherding the prisoners out of the compound and towards the huts. "Everybody back, back, back, back."

Hogan pushed himself off the wall and stepped forward, holding up a hand. "Hold it Schultz, what's the big idea?" he protested. "It's the middle of the afternoon. Under the Geneva Convention, prisoners are allowed to have at least one hour of outside recreation a day and we've barely started."

"Colonel Hogan, I do not know anything about the Geneva Convention," Schultz replied. "All I know is that the Kommandant ordered all the prisoners into the barracks, and when the Kommandant gives an order, I must obey that order!"

"Schuuultz," Hogan drawled.

From the steps of his office, Hogan saw Colonel Klink stamp his foot. "Hogan," the kommandant called, "leave Schultz alone! Whatever your protest is, it is futile. Into the barracks!"

"All right, but this is under protest," Hogan said before turning on his heel and marching into the barracks. His men joined him. As soon as the door was closed, they hurried into Hogan's office. Kinch pulled out the coffeepot receiver and plugged it in. The five men gathered around and waited for it to broadcast whatever conversation was about to take place in Klink's office.

They didn't have to wait long.

"Colonel Klink? I am Doctor Lehmann, this is Doctor Pfeiffer."

"Gentlemen, welcome to Stalag 13. To what do I owe this pleasure?" Klink said grandly.

"General Burkhalter suggested that you could be of use to us," another voice, presumably Doctor Pfeiffer, explained.

"Oh well, the General flatters us. But of course, he is right. Whatever it is, I will be happy to accommodate you. There is no place more secure in all of Germany. No one has ever escaped Stalag 13-"

"My prisoners are cowed, thoroughly cowed," Hogan and his men said along with Klink. It was the same old, same old.

"We are pleased to hear it," Doctor Lehmann said appreciatively. "We are here to deliver a new guard."

"A new guard?" Klink sounded confused.

"A new guard?" Hogan echoed.

"Yes," Lehmann said, but didn't elaborate further.

"But we have no need for another guard," Klink protested.

"It will only be temporary," Pfeiffer assured him. There was a pause. "His transfer has been approved by both General Burkhalter and the Gestapo."

"Well in that case," Klink said nervously, "of course we would be glad to welcome him."

"Excellent. Sergeant Graf, you may bring him in now," Pfeiffer said.

There was silence over the coffeepot, and Hogan and his men took the opportunity to speculate.

"A new guard? What's the big deal?" Carter asked.

"And why are there two doctors escorting him?" Kinch added.

LeBeau suddenly perked up and gave Kinch a rapid-fire pat on the back before turning and heading out of the office. Hogan watched him go, but then turned his attention back to the pot. Rubbing his chin, he pondered what exactly was happening.

"Maybe he was injured, on the Russian front or something?" Newkirk guessed. "Probably has an uncle close to Hitler."

"Yeah, maybe," Hogan said slowly, though he wasn't too sure. He looked up as LeBeau re-entered the room. The little Frenchman looked woozy. "LeBeau? LeBeau, you all right."

"Mon Dieu!" LeBeau exclaimed. "Mon Dieu!"

"LeBeau, what is it?"

LeBeau stuttered and sputtered, but couldn't get any words out before the coffeepot sounded off again.

"Mein Gott!" Klink exclaimed in shock.

Hogan and his men looked over at LeBeau who was still shaken. What was it about this guard?

"Colonel Klink, this is Corporal Weiss," Doctor Lehmann said proudly.

"Cor… Corporal Weiss," Klink said, his voice shaking. "Welcome to Stalag 13. I am Kommandant Klink."

"Kommandant," a low voice replied.

"I- uh- I hope you will be happy here," Klink said with a nervous giggle. "But, uh, Doctor Pfeiffer, Doctor Lehmann, I think I must repeat that we have no need for another guard."

"And _I_ must repeat," Pfeiffer said, "that his placement here has been approved by General Burkhalter and the Gestapo."

"Of course, of course," Klink said. There was a pause. "Fraulein Hilda, will you send in Sergeant Schultz? Schultz is the sergeant of the guards, gentlemen. He will get Corporal Weiss settled."

Hogan pulled the cord from the coffeepot and fixed LeBeau with a hard look. "All right, LeBeau, what did you see. What about this guard has everyone in a tizzy?"

LeBeau shook his head as if to clear it. "Oh Colonel, the new guard. He is huge!"


	2. Eat Your Wheaties

"What do you mean, he's huge?" Hogan asked. There had to be more to it than that for LeBeau and Klink to be so shaken.

"I mean he is the most enormous man I have ever seen in my life!" LeBeau insisted.

Newkirk snorted. "That's a fine thing coming from you, but what does that mean to us normal-sized people?"

"I know what I saw," LeBeau fumed, turning a little red. "This new guard could lift Schultz with one finger!"

Hogan cocked an eyebrow. LeBeau was prone to exaggeration. "All right, so he's big. The real question is: what makes him so important?"

"Well you heard what the doctors said: the Gestapo approved his transfer. Maybe Major Hochstetter sent him this way to keep an eye on us after that whole Berlin Betty fiasco," Kinch mused.

Hogan scowled. Major Hochstetter had been injured after he and Newkirk had infiltrated Berlin Betty's radio program, but as he had predicted, the ornery Gestapo man was back on the job within a week. Of course, he didn't find any evidence linking Hogan to the entire episode, but that only served to make him angrier. It would make sense that he would send a new, elite guard to cast a shadow over Stalag 13.

"Yeah, that makes sense," Hogan admitted. "All right, so what are we going to do about it?"

"Gee, do we have to do anything about it?" Carter asked. "Maybe he'll roll over for us. Maybe he'll be another Schultz."

"Right, and maybe there is a Santa Claus," Hogan said lightly. "No, if Hochstetter sent him here, you can bet your stripes he'll be a hard nose."

"I've got an idea," Newkirk drawled as he lit himself a cigarette. "Why don't we meet this beast before we start planning his funeral?"

"Seems reasonable to me," Kinch said with a shrug.

"All right, we'll sit on it for a while; feel him out," Hogan finally said. Pursing his lips, Hogan grabbed his elbows. "If Hochstetter did send this guy, he'll be sniffing around for anything unusual. Tell the boys to shut down all operations in the tunnel."

"All of them?" Kinch asked.

"Yeah. The machine shop, the printing press. All of it until we get a handle on this guy."

LeBeau let out a little whistle. "You are not taking any chances."

"Nope," Hogan replied. "We made Hochstetter mad." His comment was met with incredulous looks from his men. "I mean more mad than usual. So, yeah, I'm not taking any chances. Get going, Kinch." Kinch nodded and left the office.

"What should we do?" Carter asked.

"Just sit tight, Carter." Hogan checked his watch. "Schultz should be coming to get me any minute."

Sure enough, several minutes later, the rotund Sergeant arrived in the barracks and opened the door to Hogan's office. "Oh Colonel Hogan, there you are."

"Where else would I be, Schultz?" Hogan asked. "Klink confined us to barracks."

Schultz considered that for a moment before shaking his head. "Colonel Hogan, Kommandant Klink wants to see you in his office."

"Sure thing, Schultz, lead on." Hogan gestured to the door and Schultz turned and marched out. "Hang tight," Hogan said to his men before following. Schultz led him out into the compound and towards the Kommandantur. Hogan noticed that the car and truck were gone, which meant that the two doctors had probably left with them. Short visit, but then, they were only dropping off a guard- no need to linger.

"So what does the Bald Eagle want now?" Hogan asked as he went nimbly up the steps.

"I think he wants you to meet our new guard," Schultz explained.

When they reached the ante office, Hogan winked at Fraulein Hilda, who giggled and blew him a kiss. But then she glanced at Klink's office, looking concerned.

"Be careful, Colonel Hogan," she warned.

Hogan frowned. So, even Hilda was unnerved by this new guard. Hogan took a deep breath before giving Klink's door a quick knock before swinging it open.

"You wanted to see me, Ko-" Hogan's voice died and he lost his grip on the door handle, causing him to stumble forward a bit. His jaw practically hit the floor.

Despite LeBeau's report, and the reaction he had heard from Klink, Hogan wasn't quite prepared for what he saw. In front of him was the biggest man he'd ever seen. Clad in a corporal's uniform, the great behemoth turned and looked back down at him. Hogan couldn't do anything but stare. The man was huge- his muscles' muscles had muscles. In fact, this guy made Superman look like Tiny Tim.

"Boy, what kind of Wheaties do they feed you?" Hogan finally managed.

He could hear Klink chuckle and a moment later the Kommandant stepped out from behind the giant and clapped his hands together, rubbing them in delight. "Come in, Hogan, come in," Klink said, barely containing his laughter. "May I introduce you to our new guard- Corporal Weiss. He's been assigned here temporarily."

Hogan looked Weiss up and down. The guard was a Nazi's dream come true. Aside from the powerful build, he had blond hair, blue eyes, a strong jaw and perfect posture. A poster boy for the Reich's men of tomorrow.

"Please to meet you, Corporal," Hogan said. "Welcome to Stalag 13. It isn't much, but it's the only prison camp in town." Weiss just grunted. Hogan shot Klink a curious look. "Does it talk? Or did he trade all his brains in for brawn?" Weiss growled and clenched his fist. Hogan jumped back and held up his hands. "Down boy! Stay! Sit! Play dead!"

"Enough of your insolence Hogan!" Klink demanded, but there was an edge to his voice that made Hogan think that the order was more for his safety than anything else. "I warn you Hogan, I will not have you insulting Corporal Weiss."

"I will not have you insulting me," Weiss said darkly, his deep voice full of menace. Hogan found himself taking an involuntary step back before he pulled himself together and met Weiss with a cool look.

Klink cleared his throat uncomfortably. "From now on, security at Stalag 13 will be Corporal Weiss's duty. He will not be as forgiving as Schultz."

"Thanks for the warning," Hogan muttered. "May I go now? I gotta re-enforce all our tunnels before this guy steps outside."

Klink stomped his foot on the ground. "Diiiissss-missed!"

Throwing Klink a quick salute, Hogan gave Weiss one last glance before hightailing it out of the office.

Oh boy.


	3. A Bit of Panic

"It's not that I don't believe you, mate, it's just that I don't believe you," Newkirk said as he, Carter and LeBeau filed out of the Colonel's office and into the common room.

"I am telling you the truth!" LeBeau insisted. "He was eight feet tall and at least five hundred pounds!"

"And did he say fee-fi-fo-fum too?" Newkirk asked.

"Better be careful, Newkirk, a giant like that can smell the blood of an Englishman!" Carter said with a little laugh.

"What's going on?" Goldman asked from his bunk.

Newkirk jerked his thumb towards LeBeau. "LeBeau here thinks the new guard is an ogre."

From his place at the table where he was playing cards, Olsen cocked his head to the side. "Is that what you were looking at outside?" LeBeau nodded. "I don't know Newkirk- LeBeau was pretty shook up."

Newkirk snorted. "Well, I'm not about to lose any sleep over it. If he is a beast, the Colonel will have him out on his ear and off to the Russian Front within in a week."

"And if not," Carter added, "he's only going to be here temporarily anyway."

"A lot can happen between then and now," LeBeau grumbled.

"What? He's going to grind our bones to make his bread?" Newkirk asked, somewhat amused. Honestly, LeBeau was making a big deal out of nothing.

"Can't be any worse than the sawdust we use to make ours," Olsen said with a lopsided grin. Newkirk matched his grin with one of his own and sat across from him. "Poker?" Olsen asked as he scooped up his cards and began shuffling them.

"All right. Andrew, you in?"

Carter looked between Newkirk and Olsen and quickly shook his head. Then he grinned mischievously. "How about gin?"

Newkirk and Olsen exchanged a look. For some reason that Newkirk couldn't quite wrap his head around, Carter was an absolute shark when it came to gin. Any other game and he was a ruddy, hopeless git.

"You're not scared, are you?" Carter teased good-naturedly.

Olsen scoffed. "Sit down!"

Carter obediently sat next to Newkirk who eyed him warily but finally nodded. "Right, but be warned- I've got myself a new strategy this time. I'll beat you for sure."

Carter just grinned. "So are does that mean you'll place a bet?"

"Not on your life, mate!" Newkirk exclaimed.

As Olsen dealt, Newkirk cast a glance at LeBeau, who was lying in his bunk, arms folded across his chest, fuming. Well, he could stew all he wanted- Newkirk wasn't about to buy into his description of the new guard until he saw for himself.

The truth was Newkirk wasn't ready for another crisis. He had been enjoying the bit of downtime they had had over the last few days. Running an intelligence and sabotage operation right under Jerry's nose was a dangerous occupation. Newkirk had lost count of how many close calls he had had. Death had come a-knocking more than once, and they had only been at it full-time about four months. Thankfully they had managed to avoid serious injury, but their luck had to run out eventually.

With all that being said, he wasn't about to panic over something as simple as a new guard- no matter how big he was. The colonel would fix him. It wouldn't be the first time. Newkirk remembered when the colonel had first arrived. There had been more than one nasty guard. But within a month, they had disappeared- sent off to London, another prison camp, or more often, the Russian Front. Besides, the doctors in Klink's office had already said that Weiss' stay would be temporary. How much trouble could he cause before he left?

"All right, Carter," Newkirk said after he scooped up his cards and began arranging them, "I'll try to go easy on you."

"Sure, Newkirk," he said as he tossed a card. Newkirk frowned. Not at all the card he needed. "Maybe you and Olsen can team up. Make it a fair fight."

"You know, I always thought you were such a nice guy, Carter," Olsen accused.

Carter looked shocked. "Well, gosh, I am. But that doesn't mean I have to let you win at cards, does it?"

"Would be a nice start," Newkirk groused.

"Eh, don't listen to them, Carter. They're just poor sports," Goldman called from his perch above them.

They were on to their second game- the first had ended too quickly with Olsen and Newkirk as the unsurprising losers- when the colonel finally came back into the barracks.

Shutting the door behind him, Hogan fell back against the door jamb. Taking off his cap, he ran a hand through his hair and blew out a breath. From the table, Carter looked up from his hand, and absently threw down a card. "Everything all right, Colonel?"

From the corner of his eye, Newkirk saw LeBeau watching them intensely, as if waiting for the Colonel to redeem him. "LeBeau was right," Hogan said, earning a satisfied nod from LeBeau. "The man is a tank!"

"Cor, is he that bad?" He would have to be for the Colonel to look so rattled. Hogan motioned for them to join him. Newkirk threw his cards down- a bad hand anyway- and went with the others to the door. Hogan slowly opened it and the men crowded around.

"He should be coming out soon enough," the colonel said.

And he did. Newkirk's eye grew wide as he saw the great behemoth step out of the kommandantur and onto the steps. It was a wonder they didn't snap like kindling under him. "Blimey!" Newkirk exclaimed. "That's him?" LeBeau _had_ exaggerated, but not by much. If that goon really did say fee-fi-fo-fum, Newkirk was going to get his Englishman hide right out of there.

"What the hell?" Olsen gaped. "There's no way this guy is real!"

"Looks like he's full of steroids," Carter mused. The others looked over to him, confused.

"What's that mate?" Newkirk asked.

"Steroids. Maybe… oh what's it called?" Carter screwed up his face as he tried to remember. "Testosterone? Read about it a while back, before the war. Some Kraut was offered the Nobel Prize in chemistry for it, but Hitler made him turn it down. Supposed to help increase body weight. Can add a lot of muscle real fast with exercise. Pretty new. The Nazis must be experimenting with it."

"That pharmacy book is really paying off, Carter," Hogan said as they watched Weiss who was looking about the compound. Finally the giant left the step, but didn't seem to be in a hurry to go anywhere though he did seem to be heading towards to guards' quarters. Tucked under his arm was a big stack of files. If he had to guess, Newkirk would say they were their personnel files.

"Boy, if he's not careful, he's going to fall right through into one of the tunnels," Carter said.

Suddenly, Weiss stopped dead in his tracks and looked right at them. Newkirk's heart leapt into his throat. Had Weiss heard Carter? But that was impossible. He was too far away to hear them- even Carter. But there was no doubt that the big guard was looking at them intently. Maybe it was because the door was open, and they were supposed to be inside.

Hogan, of course, met Weiss' look with one of his own, as if daring him to come closer. Newkirk couldn't help but think that that was a dumb thing to do.

"Do you… think he heard me?" Carter practically squeaked.

Suddenly, the trap door to the tunnel opened with a clatter and Kinch climbed out over the side of his bunk. The group of men looked over in alarm, then back to Weiss who, impossibly, seemed to have heard the noise as well and was heading over.

Kinch paused, and quirked an eyebrow before quickly realizing something was wrong. He closed the tunnel entrance and slipped onto the bench at the table, grabbing the deck of cards and looking for all the world like he was innocent.

A moment later, Weiss was at the barracks. With his mighty arm, he swept all the men gathered there to the side. The men fell into each other and nearly toppled to the floor. Weiss didn't notice or care, and stepped in, looking around with keen eyes.

"Nice to see you again, Corporal Weiss," Colonel Hogan said as he brushed himself off and untangled himself from the others. "What can we do for you?"

Weiss stomped his foot, then moved further into the barracks and stomped again.

"Looking for a dance partner?" Hogan quipped. Weiss turned a dangerous eye to him, and Newkirk felt a shiver run up his spine. But there was a reason Hogan was their leader- the colonel showed no signs of backing down.

"This is your hut, Colonel Hogan?" Weiss asked curtly.

"Sure is," Hogan replied, rocking slightly on his heels. "Not exactly the Ritz, but it keeps the rain off my head."

Weiss ignored the smart remark. "And you share it with," he motioned to Kinch, "this?"

Newkirk's hackles went up, and he balled a fist. He didn't care if this goon could stomp him into the ground, he was going to show him exactly what he thought of him.

But, again, there was a reason Hogan was a colonel and he wasn't. Though he tensed, the colonel kept relatively cool. "Is there a problem, Corporal?"

Weiss just sniffed and headed back for the door. "I will see you again, Colonel Hogan. Soon." He left, slamming the door closed behind him.

"Well he's a bloody-"

Hogan held up his hand, cutting Newkirk off. Carefully, he cracked the door open and watched for a few minutes. Then, he let out a sigh.

"I think it's safe to say I don't like that guy," Colonel Hogan whispered. "Carter, can that steroid stuff give someone super hearing?"

"I don't think so, Colonel."

"You do not think he actually heard Carter, do you, Colonel?" LeBeau asked, also in a whisper.

Hogan frowned. "I don't know. Maybe he just saw us in the door." He sounded uneasy and unsure.

"Does someone want to explain to me what's going on," Kinch asked, a slight edge to his lowered voice.

"That was our new guard," Hogan replied.

"Charming," Newkirk said sourly. "How are we going to get rid of him?"

"I'm not sure we want to yet," Hogan said thoughtfully.

"What do you mean, Colonel?" Kinch asked.

"I mean, if he is some sort of Nazi guinea pig, we're going to want to find out what we can about him. _Then_ we can get rid of him."

Perfect. That meant the ogre would be sticking around for a while. Maybe a bit of panic wasn't uncalled for after all.


	4. A Nighttime Visit

Everyone walked on eggshells the rest of the day. Even when they were let out of their barracks, a subdued mood permeated the camp. Word about Corporal Weiss spread quickly through whispers and hushed conversations. Speculation and rumours swelled. Corporal Weiss went from being a new guard, to a giant, to an ogre, to a superman within less than an hour, each prisoner taking a bit of information and adding to it.

There was nothing Hogan could do to stop the rumours, or calm his men. At the best of times the normal rumour mill, with its oft-times outlandish tales, was hard to stop, even when Hogan had definitive proof that the stories were false. But this time, he had no facts. Nothing. Weiss was a mystery to him as well, and his own theories were not far off from the rumours. Was Weiss just a normal albeit very strong man? Was he a Nazi science experiment? Was he even human?

Everyone was on their toes, constantly looking over their shoulder to make sure that Corporal Weiss, with his seeming super-human hearing, was not close by. Though he seemed to have disappeared for the day, his presence and the secrecy that surrounded him and his arrival cast a dark shadow over the camp.

It wasn't until evening roll call that the rest of the prisoners caught sight of the mammoth of a man. There was an audible reaction to him when he stepped out of the guards' housing block to look over the prisoners. The guard stalked over to Klink, who was standing on the kommandantur porch, and stopped at the bottom of the steps. Klink chuckled and stepped down to join him then addressed the prisoners.

"Prisoners! I would like to introduce Corporal Weiss, our new guard. Be warned: though his stay is temporary, he is just as determined as I am in making sure that no one escapes Stalag 13. If I were you, I would not do anything to provoke him. Diiiiissss-missed!" And with that, Klink turned on his heel and marched back into his office.

Weiss took a step forward and drew himself to his full height, looking down on the prisoners contemptuously. After a moment, Schultz timidly approached him, and spoke with him before leading him off, apparently to his new post.

Hogan watched them go then turned to follow his men into the barracks. Inside, he motioned to Goldman and jerked his head to the door. Goldman nodded and cracked it open, peering out to keep track of any goons passing by.

"What are we going to do about this guy?" Kinch asked in a whisper. Always in whispers now. Each one of his men had asked the same question, several times already, and Hogan still didn't have an answer.

"Say, why don't we convince Schultz to put him up in a guard tower? On the other side of camp?" Carter suggested. "He can't get into any trouble there."

"That… is a good idea, Carter," Hogan said. But then he shook his head. "Nah. Klink would never go for it. He knows exactly how to use Weiss against us. Even if he doesn't have superpowers Klink will want him on the ground where he can intimidate us." Besides he wasn't fully convinced that Weiss didn't have superpowers. And, with their luck, Weiss had x-ray vision too.

"We will not let that stupid Boche intimidate us," LeBeau spat hotly.

Newkirk just raised an eyebrow. "Right. Weren't you the one who nearly fainted at the sight of him this afternoon?"

"I did not faint!" LeBeau cried loudly, before covering his mouth. "I did not faint!" he repeated in an earnest whisper.

"Colonel, you don't really think this guy has superpowers, do you?" Kinch asked incredulously. "I mean, sure, he's big. And _maybe_ he has good hearing, but he's just a man, and this isn't a comic book."

Hogan let out a sigh. "No. No I don't think he has super powers," he said in a normal voice, as if to prove his point. Really, what had he been thinking? Superpowers indeed. But there was definitely something not right about him.

"I've got an idea," Newkirk said.

"I'll bet you do," LeBeau grumbled.

Newkirk ignored him and pressed on. "Why don't we let it alone? He's only going to be here a while, and I'm not keen on trying to take down a walking, talking tank."

"Sure," Hogan agreed sarcastically. "We'll leave it. And then he'll get shipped off to another prison camp where they won't be able to deal with him at all. Or, worse, he'll be sent to the front."

"Where he'll make a nice big target for a sniper."

"Why don't we poison his food?" LeBeau suggested.

"No. We can't just kill him. At least not while he's in camp," Hogan said, nixing the idea. "The Gestapo would be on us in a second."

"Why don't we wait until he gets transferred, or takes a trip into town, put a bomb in the car and- BOOM! BANG! KAPOW!" Carter said excitedly. Hogan raised an eyebrow- maybe they were in a comic book after all.

"Let's call that Plan B," Hogan said. "Meanwhile, let's keep thinking on Plan A. The sooner he's gone, the better!"

* * *

Hogan and his men brainstormed for a little longer until the lights went out and they turned in for the night. They decided they'd have clearer heads in the morning.

Much later, a sudden noise startled Hogan from his sleep. He sat upright at the lights suddenly turned on. A quick glance at his watch told him it was 0330. Far too early for roll call.

Someone shouted in the common room and Hogan jumped off his bunk, and rushed to the door. In the common room, he found his men up and out of bed. Corporal Weiss stood in the middle of the room with two other goons.

"Hey, hey, hey, what's going on here?" Hogan asked, sounding more annoyed than alarmed. "I was right in the middle of the best dream. Two blondes were feeding me grapes under the shade of-"

"Colonel Hogan, I am here to inspect the barracks," Weiss barked.

"Look at that, not here one day and already trying to win the guard of the year award," Carter joked, earning him a bit of laughter from the other prisoners. Hogan smirked. If Weiss thought he was going to run roughshod over the men in Barracks 2, he had another thing coming.

Weiss growled. The men exchanged a look, and Hogan saw Newkirk wink knowingly. So, they were going to see just how far they could push Weiss. Hogan was game, but he hoped they didn't overdo it.

Turning to the other guards, he ordered them to begin searching.

"Blimey, I just made that bed mate," Newkirk protested loudly.

"What exactly are you looking for, Corporal Weiss?" Hogan asked. "Maybe we can help you."

Weiss just grunted and joined the other in the search, throwing things off of shelves and stomping on various spots on the floor.

"Probably thinks of our barracks as a catalogue- browsing until he finds something he likes," Olsen suggested with a shrug.

"Anything you want you can probably find for pretty cheap in the Sears catalogue," Goldman said. "My kid brother delivers them. If you let me go home, I can send you one from the States."

Weiss turned a dangerous eye to Goldman. "Shut up!"

"Blimey, how do you like that? We're just trying to help the man," Newkirk sniffed.

"Oui, that is not very nice," LeBeau said darkly, glaring up at Weiss. It reminded Hogan of a little dog staring down a bear, with every expectation of winning.

"Someone didn't learn his manners in kindergarten," Kinch said dryly.

Something flashed across Weiss' face and he stopped what he was doing. He suddenly turned red and began to shake and Hogan took a small step forward, ready to step in between him and Kinch if he had to.

"I told you all to shut up," Weiss growled. He turned his attention to Hogan. "Where is it?"

"So now you want our help?" Hogan quipped lightly, knowing that he was pushing it too far. Oh, who was he kidding, they had crossed the line five minutes ago. Now he was begging for trouble. "Well, I'll be the bigger man: where's what?"

"The poison! The bombs! The tunnel!" Weiss cried, moving closer to Hogan until he towered over him.

Hogan quirked an eyebrow and stared back up at Weiss. "Poison? Bombs? Tunnels? We're prisoners!" he insisted. "Why would we have any of that? I mean, well, maybe the tunnel would make sense, but we learned a long time ago that no one escapes Stalag 13, so what's the point?"

Weiss glared down at him and Hogan's expression hardened as he glared back. But then he noticed something. Weiss was sweating. Breathing heavily. And, if Hogan was not mistaken, he looked somewhat pale. All this despite not doing anything overly physical. For a moment, Hogan thought the huge man just might faint.

"Are- are you okay, Corporal Weiss?" Hogan asked, surprising himself by even asking.

Weiss sucked in a breath and clenched a fist, bringing it up as if to strike Hogan. Then, suddenly changing his mind, he turned around and grabbed the common room table. Lifting it as high as he could without hitting the ceiling, Weiss brought it crashing down on Olsen's bunk. The table and bunk splintered and came crashing down, spraying wood chips everywhere.

"I will find it all, Colonel Hogan," Weiss promised before motioning for the other guards to join him as he left.

When he had gone, the prisoners let out a collective breath.

"What the hell was that?" Kinch asked.

"I think we pushed him too far," Newkirk said in shock.

"Oh, you think?" LeBeau scoffed.

"He destroyed my bunk!" Olsen gaped.

"Where are we going to sleep?" his bunkmate, Private Fuller, added.

"That is what you are worried about?" LeBeau cried.

"Well, I guess we can confirm his super hearing," Carter said slowly. "And strength; he lifted that table like it was nothing."

"Well at least we can cross x-ray vision off the list, otherwise he would have found the tunnel for sure," Kinch said.

"Yeah," Hogan said slowly. "But did you notice how winded he was? He looked like he was going to faint." His men looked at him, suddenly realizing he was right.

"But what does that mean?" LeBeau asked.

"I don't know, LeBeau. Not yet." Hogan furrowed his brow and went through everything that happened. "One thing's for sure, he's a nasty piece of work," he said finally, shaking his head. There was a chorus of agreement. "All right," Hogan sighed. "Let's clean up. I'll go see Klink in the morning."


	5. The Nazi

Right after morning roll call, Hogan marched right into the Kommandantur. He barely acknowledged Hilda before pushing his way into Klink's office. Klink started in surprise, dropping a magazine into his lap and sitting up straight.

"Hogan, what is the meaning of this?" Klink demanded.

"The meaning of this is that you've got to keep that dog of yours on a leash!" Hogan snapped.

"What dog?" Klink asked, confused.

"Weiss."

Klink smacked his desk and stood up. "Hogan, Corporal Weiss is only doing his job."

"Colonel Klink, are you aware that he came and inspected my barracks last night?"

Klink tilted his head up and waved his hand dismissively. "Perfectly acceptable. You are prisoners. He is a guard."

"Are you also aware that he smashed our table and a set of bunk beds?" Hogan pressed.

Looking surprised, Klink nearly lost his monocle. He sputtered for a moment before waving his hand again. "A bit excessive, I grant you, but he must have had his reasons," he said, but there was a bit of a waver in his voice.

Hogan pegged him suspiciously. "Are you… Are you scared of Weiss, Kommandant?"

"Of course I am!" Klink snapped. "Who isn't? He was sent here by the Gestapo and General Burkhalter. And, in case it escaped your notice, he is huge!"

Hogan pretended to be shocked. "What? But he's a corporal! You're a colonel! Who's running this camp anyway?"

"You are," Klink said sullenly. "I mean I am! I mean _he_ is." Klink let out a sigh and sunk back into his chair. Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his desk and pinched the bridge of his nose. "He has already informed me that he wants to make changes in the camp. He should be here any minute to discuss them."

"And you're just going to let him?"

"What choice do I have?"

Hogan placed a hand on Klink's desk and leaned forward, eyeing Klink seriously. Klink looked up and heaved a wary sigh. "Colonel Klink, when that big oaf gets here you look him right in the eye and you tell him that you're the Iron Eagle. You have a perfect record: no one has ever escaped Stalag 13. You rule with an iron fist and you are going to keep doing things the way you've always done them because it works."

"Of course," Klink said, standing slowly and straightening himself. He grabbed the lapels of his jacket and puffed out his chest. "I am the Iron Eagle, aren't I? I have been running Stalag 13 perfectly. No escapes. From all the other camps they fly away like birds. But not here."

"All because of you," Hogan said in awe. "You don't need Weiss to mess things up, and you're not afraid to tell him!"

"No, no I am not afraid. Corporal Weiss doesn't know what it takes to run a prison camp. _I_ do." Klink turned to face Hogan, a satisfied grin on his face. "Thank you, Hogan."

"Don't mention it," Hogan said flatly. "Now, while I'm here, I need to requisition some lumber and tools so we can build a new table and a bunk bed."

"Absolutely not. You'll just use it to build a tunnel."

"A tunnel? Us?" Klink just huffed and looked unamused. "I give you my word as an officer and a gentleman, we won't use it to build anything but a bed and a table." Klink didn't look convinced, so Hogan tried again. "Olsen and Fuller had to sleep on the floor last night, Kommandant. That's against the Geneva Conference. You've already got the Gestapo and Burkhalter on your case, do you really want the Swiss commission to pile on too?"

Klink deflated. "No, I suppose not. All right, permission granted. Go to the supply sergeant and order what you need."

"You're a great humanitarian, Colonel." Hogan said, offering Klink a salute, which he returned. Hogan was just about to leave when the door opened and Hilda poked her nose in.

"Corporal Weiss is here to see you, Kommandant," she informed him.

"Send him in," Klink said with a wave of his hand.

Corporal Weiss entered the room, a stack of files tucked under his arm. He glanced contemptuously at Hogan before dropping the files on Klink's desk.

"Well, I guess I better be going," Hogan said slowly, though he made no move to leave.

"No, Hogan, stay," Klink said hastily. Hogan shrugged and rocked on his heels, waiting. "Corporal Weiss, I am glad you're here. I understand you wanted to discuss something with me."

"Yes, Herr Kommandant," Weiss replied.

"Corporal Weiss, I am not interested in what you have to say," Klink said evenly, looking to Hogan for approval. Hogan nodded slightly. "Whatever improvements you want to make, let me assure you they are not necessary. The prisoners here are thoroughly cowed and broken. We have never had an escape here at Stalag 13 because of the way I have run this camp: with an iron fist and severe consequences for any attempts."

"What I have to say does not concern stopping escape attempts," Weiss said darkly. "And as for your thoroughly cowed prisoners, I have seen no evidence of that." He glared at Hogan who just shrugged innocently. "I have been reading the prisoners' files. Colonel Klink, your camp is not set up according to regulations."

"I already said, I am not interested," Klink said though Hogan could see his resolve was faltering under Weiss' shadow.

"Oh, I see. You know how to run a camp perfectly," Weiss growled.

"Yes, I do. And I do not like your tone, Corporal. May I remind you that I am a _colonel_ and your commanding officer."

"And may I remind you, Colonel Klink, that the rules for how to run a prison camp was made by the high command? Do you suppose you know how to run a camp better than they do?"

Weiss' remark hit the target and Klink's resolved collapsed like a cheap tent. "Well, I uh- what kind of changes were you going to suggest?"

"All your prisoners are mixed together," Weiss replied. "In Colonel Hogan's hut, for example, there are Americans, Englishmen, a Frenchman, a Negro, and a Jew." He practically spat out the last one. "They must be segregated."

"Oh," Klink batted away the comment nervously. "I see no need to do that. The prisoners have not complained. Have you, Hogan?"

"No sir," Hogan replied. "And having a few other nationalities makes it hard to coordinate any escape attempts. Come to think of it, LeBeau and Newkirk are constantly arguing over the 100 year war. And after the Fourth of July, those Brits wouldn't even talk to us for a week, let alone hatch an escape plot with us."

"So you see, Corporal Weiss, there is no need," Klink said.

"Again, I remind you that these rules were put in place by the high command." Weiss looked at Klink studiously for a moment. "Colonel Klink, do you understand what we are trying to do?"

"Of course I-" Klink started, but then fell silent for a moment. "Remind me again what we are trying to do?"

"We are trying to create a new world order. A racially pure order. We are trying to create a world for the master race to live in peace and prosperity. A world free of vermin."

"Well, I- that is to say that-" Klink floundered.

"What's that got to do with us?" Hogan interrupted. "Why segregate us?"

"When this war is over, you will all be under our rule. You will be segregated then and dealt with accordingly."

"You're not just going to kill us?" Hogan sneered contemptuously.

"That is not for me to decide. But consider this as a way to prepare you for what is to come."

Suddenly, Hogan barked out a laugh. "You don't really believe all that hokey stuff, do you?" He decided that making fun of the idea would wound Weiss more than reacting with the contempt he actually felt.

"The question is, do you, Colonel Klink?" Weiss asked. "Do you believe in the vision of the High Command? Do you believe in the thousand year Reich?"

"Well… of course I do!" Klink said quickly and emphatically. "Corporal Weiss, inform Sergeant Schultz that the prisoners are to be moved to different barracks and segregated."

"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant. A wise choice." Weiss saluted Klink, then left.

"What was that?" Hogan demanded. "I thought you were going to stand up to him!"

Klink heaved another great sigh and poured himself a tall drink. "Hogan, before you asked me to stand up against a superman. But Corporal Weiss is much worse than that."

"Yeah? What is he?" Hogan asked curiously.

Klink gulped down his drink then looked at Hogan sadly. "He's a Nazi."


	6. Traitor in the Midst

Carter leaned against his bunk post and surveyed the empty space where the table and Olsen's bunk had once been. It was strange, but after so long in cramped quarters all the space made him feel uncomfortable.

"I guess we don't need to use the rec hall to jitterbug anymore," he joked.

"Well that makes it all right then, doesn't it?" Newkirk said sourly as he sat on the edge of his bunk, shuffling some cards. "But we don't have anywhere to eat or play cards."

"Not to mention I'm sleeping on the floor!" Olsen cried as he kicked his mattress. "Never thought I'd miss my bunk."

"My back may never recover," Fuller added. To emphasize his point, the Englishman bounced on his heels and stretched backwards.

"How long do you think before we get a replacement, Kinch?" Olsen asked.

Kinch shrugged. "The colonel's going to ask for supplies. Sergeant Cutter in Barracks Six should be able to whip up something in a few days."

"In the meantime," Newkirk drawled dryly, "maybe you can just dream about that comfy bed you have in your flat in town."

"Yeah, well," Olsen started somewhat sheepishly, "it's not like I can get to that nice comfy bed right now. No one to replace me. And even if there was, there's no way I can get out of camp while Weiss is here."

"My heart bleeds for you," LeBeau said, rolling his eyes.

"Okay, fine," Olsen said, throwing his hands up, "I'll just suffer in silence!"

"Promise?" Kinch smirked.

Olsen let out a defeated sigh and dropped down onto his mattress, crossing his arms across his chest like a petulant child.

Carter found himself sighing as well. "I'll trade off with you tonight, Olsen," he offered.

Olsen grinned. "You're a good guy, Carter. I knew I could count on you!" There was something in his tone that made Carter think that he had just been had. And he had the sinking feeling that somehow he'd end up sleeping on the floor until a new bunk could be built.

"Anyone want to take pity on me?" Fuller asked hopefully.

"Fat chance. We can't all be as nice as Carter," Newkirk said with a bark of laughter.

"Or as pitiful as Olsen," Kinch added.

"I should take offense at that," Olsen said, "but since it bought me a night off the floor, I'll let it slide." Olsen shrugged and smirked, as if he were mugging for a non-existent camera.

Fuller snorted and mimicked Olsen's earlier action by plopping down on his mattress, arms crossed.

"Oh, all right. I will trade with you, Fuller," LeBeau finally said with a huff.

Carter grinned. As ornery as LeBeau seemed sometimes, he really did have a heart of gold. Maybe the others would hop on the bandwagon and Carter wouldn't have to spend the next few days on the floor after all.

"Well I'm glad we've got that all sorted out," Newkirk said as he hopped off his bunk. "Now the real question is what are we going to do about our new monster guard?"

"That is the sixty-four-dollar question," Kinch said seriously. "The colonel is talking to Klink about it right now."

"And of course we know we can count on our fearless Kommandant," LeBeau said sarcastically.

"But can we really do anything but wait?" Carter asked. "I mean he's been onto us from square one. I say we just wait until he's transferred out of camp and take care of him on his way out."

"Oh who asked you?" LeBeau scowled.

"Well I-"

Carter was interrupted by the colonel who burst through the door. All eyes fell on him, and Carter felt his heart sink into his stomach. Colonel Hogan looked panicked. Colonel Hogan never looked panicked! Just what had happened in Klink's office?

Kinch rose to his feet. "Colonel?" He said tentatively, looking ready to spring into action the moment Colonel Hogan asked.

"What happened?" LeBeau asked.

"It's Weiss. He's convinced Klink to segregate us," Hogan explained.

"Segregate us?" Carter repeated. What did that mean? Sure, he knew what it meant in a general sense, but what were the details- how would it be applied to them?

"What does that mean?" Fuller asked, saving Carter from having to ask the question himself.

"It means we're all going to be split up- the whole camp by nationality and race," Hogan explained.

Carter heard Kinch swear under his breath and frowned. After finding some equality and even authority in camp, this must have felt like a sledgehammer of disappointment.

"When?" LeBeau asked.

Hogan shook his head. "I don't know. As soon as-" The shrill blowing of a whistle from outside cut him off. "Apparently right now," Hogan growled.

Sure enough, the door opened and Corporal Weiss stepped in. Carter frowned. Where was Schultz? But then he decided that Weiss would want to oversee the changes in their barracks- in Colonel Hogan's barracks- personally.

"All the prisoners have two minutes to gather their possessions," Weiss barked. "You will not be allowed to return for whatever you forget."

Hogan opened his mouth as if to argue, but quickly shut it, balling a fist. Carter tilted his head slightly at the gesture. That wasn't like the colonel. But maybe he figured it wasn't worth fighting over. Whatever they left behind would get to them eventually. It wasn't as if they wouldn't be allowed to talk to each other again.

"One minute, fifty seconds," Weiss growled.

The men grumbled, but quickly began gathering their belongings in whatever bags or boxes they could find. Weiss stepped further into the barracks, overseeing the whole thing. Carter packed his belongings into an old Red Cross box and made sure he grabbed his Rita Hayworth poster, tucking it securely under his arm.

"Twenty seconds," Weiss announced. Carter quickly scanned his bunk. Then, satisfied that he had everything, he stood in front of his bunk, waiting for the others to finish.

"You got everything, Newkirk?" Carter asked, looking over his shoulder up at his bunk mate. His soon to be former bunk mate. Carter suddenly realized there would be someone else sleeping in the bunk above him that night. He'd just gotten use to Newkirk's snoring. Now he'd have to start all over again.

Of course there was more to it than that, but Carter wasn't sure he was ready to process exactly what this change meant yet. Instead, he consoled himself with the thought that as soon as Weiss left, everything would go back to normal.

Suddenly and without warning, Corporal Weiss shoved Goldman right into Carter. Both fell back into Carter's bunk, their belongings flying out of their boxes.

"Hey!" Hogan shouted. "You're crossing a line, Weiss!"

"And what will you do about it, Colonel Hogan?" Weiss sneered. Then he turned his attention back to Goldman and grabbed the back of his shirt. Before he could think too much about it, Carter grabbed Weiss' wrist and tried to yank it away. Of course Weiss had a grip of steel so he only managed to shift Goldman's shirt a little.

"Let go," Carter ordered, still gripping Weiss' wrist.

Weiss eyed Carter and looked him up and down. "Carter, Andrew J."

Carter's skin crawled at the idea that Weiss knew him by name, but he steeled himself and met Weiss' gaze with a hard look of his own. He knew most of the guys thought he was a dope, but he knew a bully when he saw one and he wasn't about to back down now.

"Sergeant Schultz said you were an Indian. A Sioux."

Carter grimaced. For a guy who didn't know anything, Schultz sure talked a lot. But he wasn't sure where Weiss was going with this.

"That's enough," Hogan said darkly, grabbing Weiss' shoulder and pulling him back as best he could.

Weiss let go of Goldman, straightened and brushed Hogan aside. Hogan stumbled slightly but quickly regained his composure. Carter and Goldman tried to sweep what they could back into their boxes and stood, each fixing Weiss with contemptuous glares.

"You okay, Goldman?" Carter asked from the side of his mouth.

"Yeah. You?"

"Yeah."

"Everybody raus," Weiss snapped. Carter stood his ground until Goldman got past Weiss.

"Come on, Carter," Hogan said. Carter nodded and walked to the door. Hogan, with eyes still on Weiss, grabbed Carter's shoulder and gave it a little squeeze before gently pushing him towards to the door.

"Traitor," Weiss spat.

Carter wasn't sure who that was directed towards, but ignored it as he stepped into the compound.


	7. Marching Orders

Hogan stepped into formation outside Barracks 2. Panic rose up in his chest, making it hard to breathe. He shouldn't have stopped to chat with his men. He should have told them to get down into the tunnels to arm themselves. They had enough firepower to take over the camp.

The source of his panic was the thought that, as soon as they were separated, Weiss would order the guards to simply shoot the Jewish prisoners. Maybe even the black prisoners as well. Weiss had no regard for the Geneva Convention, or even basic decency or humanity. Everything took a back seat to his twisted Nazi ideology.

He would just have to hope for the best. But the second things went south, he would spring into action. He'd take on Weiss unarmed if he had to. The other prisoners would follow his lead. Not even Weiss could fight off five hundred men.

Corporal Weiss strode into the centre of the compound and motioned for the other guards to join him. After Weiss issued his orders, the guards dispersed and began pulling men out of formation and shepherded them into groups.

"Just go with it," Hogan ordered. "But be ready to take action on my mark."

"And what sort of action will you take, Colonel Hogan?" Weiss asked as he marched up to the Barracks 2 formation.

"I was thinking of starting a letter-writing campaign to our congressmen," Hogan quipped.

Weiss grunted. With one meaty paw, he grabbed LeBeau and pulled him out of formation. "In front of Barracks 18. Englanders to Barracks 10. You," he growled to Kinch, "Barracks 19."

The men looked to Hogan, who nodded, before leaving. Hogan flexed his hands, balling them into fists and them stretching them out as he waited for whatever came next.

Weiss oiled his way behind the rest of the formation. Then he placed a boot on Goldman's back and pushed him to the ground. "Barracks 20, dog."

Hogan took half a step forward, but since Weiss didn't seem to make any more hostile gestures, he stayed put, instead choosing to glare at Weiss. If he didn't provoke the giant, maybe he wouldn't take it out on his men.

With a scowl, Goldman got to his feet, only to be pushed down again.

"That's enough, Weiss," Hogan growled.

"Yeah, leave him alone," Carter added.

Weiss grunted and gave Goldman another light push with his boot.

If he was planning on intimidating Goldman, or hoping he would crawl away, he was sorely mistaken. Goldman got to his feet, brushed himself off, and after shooting Weiss a dirty look, marched off towards Barracks 20.

That left just the white Americans in front of Barracks 2. Hogan saw a few more breaking from formation in front of other huts to make their way over. They would make up the largest group and would most likely occupy huts 1 through 10 while the English would take huts 11 through 17. If he were lucky, he'd at least keep Olsen and Carter in Barracks 2 with him.

But Weiss seemed to have other plans. Before any more Americans could join them, Weiss grabbed Carter's arm and pulled him out of line.

"Barracks 1," he ordered. Carter cast a wary glance at Hogan, but then pulled his arm out of Weiss' loose grip and stalked away.

Hogan tracked him for a moment before looking around to try and find the rest of his men. But all the barracks they had been assigned to were out of his eye sight. He especially wished he could see Barracks 20, but figured as long as Weiss stayed close by, he wouldn't have to worry too much about them. The other guards wouldn't dare shoot a group of prisoners, even if Weiss had ordered them to. The one good thing he could say about the guards at Stalag 13 was that they weren't Nazis. Rather they were old, third and fourth-tier soldiers who were just trying to make it through the war in one piece.

More Americans joined Hogan at Barracks 2. They were quickly divided into groups- 15 men, including Hogan, for Barracks 2, 20 men for the other huts. At the very least, Olsen was still assigned to Barracks 2. And it seemed that Weiss wasn't going completely overboard with segregating them; Garlotti, Schmidt, LaCroix and Lopez were all in Barracks 2 with him. Apparently as long as they weren't black or Jewish, and American was an American. Weiss probably considered them all mongrels.

"Feel better now, Weiss?" Hogan asked contemptuously once they were all separated and off to their own barracks.

"It is not for my benefit, but yours," Weiss answered.

"How thoughtful."

"Never knew the Krauts had our best interests at heart," Olsen said with a scowl.

"Don't you know that's why they started the war? It's for our own good," Garlotti sneered.

"Enough!" Weiss snapped. "You have your new assignment, now everyone back into the barracks. Now."

That suited Hogan just fine. He was anxious to get back inside anyway. More accurately, he was impatient to get into the tunnels and over to Barracks 19 and 20. He'd have to wait until Weiss was out of earshot- though he wasn't sure what that distance was. Either way, he'd have to risk it.

"Let's skip introductions for now," Hogan said once they were inside. "Garlotti, watch the door. You see Weiss?"

"Heading towards Klink's office," Garlotti reported. "Okay, he's in."

"Stay put. Olsen," Hogan snapped his fingers and Olsen fell into step behind him as he marched up to Kinch's bunk. Hogan opened the tunnel entrance and jumped onto the ladder, quickly making his way down. As soon as he hit the floor, he started towards the munitions room. There he grabbed a few hand guns. He handed two of them to Olsen.

"Give them to Kinch- Barracks 19. Tell him to use them only if he needs to. And for Pete sakes tell him to hide them like his life depended on it."

"Do you think he'll need to?" Olsen asked looking worried.

"No way to know for sure. Weiss is a fanatic, and fanatics can justify any extreme measure."

"How are we going to get rid of this guy, Colonel?"

Hogan sighed. "I don't know. Not yet. Now hurry up and get going."

Olsen nodded and double-timed it out of the room. Hogan pocketed two more handguns and followed him down the tunnel. They parted ways to get to their respective destinations.

Carefully and as quietly as he could, Hogan climbed the ladder leading up to Barracks 20. He paused just under the entrance and strained his ears to try and hear if there were any guards up there, but there wasn't much he could make out. Deciding it was worth the risk, Hogan gently tapped on the entrance.

Shave and a haircut.

He waited with baited breath. A moment later, the entrance opened. It wasn't nearly as sophisticated as the entrance in Barracks 2- just some loose floorboards, barely wide enough for a man to get through. Hogan poked his head up and looked around. With a grimace he noted that there were at least thirty men crammed into the hut, meaning there were not enough beds to go around. Against the Geneva Convention, but then again, what did Weiss care?

"Everyone all right?" Hogan asked in a hoarse whisper.

"We're fine for now, Colonel," Goldman reported. He came and crouched by the entrance. "Why, you hear something, sir?"

Hogan shook his head. "No. Nothing. But I don't trust Weiss. Do you?" Goldman also shook his head. Hogan dug into his pocket and pulled out one of the guns and handed it to Goldman. "Here." He pulled out the other gun and passed it along. "Just in case. Don't use it unless you have to." Goldman nodded and pocketed the weapons. "Hide them, but keep them close enough to get to in a hurry." It was a big risk to give them weapons. It didn't matter who they were- what race they were- if the guards found a weapon in the barracks, that would give them reason enough to shoot them all. But Hogan wasn't about to leave them defenseless. Not against a radical like Weiss. And so it was a calculated risk that Hogan was willing to take.

Goldman nodded. "When should we use them?"

Hogan frowned. "Only if it looks like Weiss is going to mow you down. Look, I think it's obvious that Weiss doesn't like you, so you're just going to have to grow a thick skin and bear a little mistreatment."

"Story of our lives," Goldman said with a little sigh. "Don't worry, Colonel, we know how to handle ourselves."

"I know. Sorry this is all you get, but you can't very well hide an arsenal in here."

"This'll be fine. Thanks, Colonel."

Hogan nodded. "Good luck," he said before he started back down the ladder. The entrance above him was quickly covered, leaving him in semi-darkness as he climbed down.

Feeling a little better about the situation, Hogan raced back to Barracks 2. Olsen joined him and together they climbed back up. Garlotti nodded when they arrived. All clear then.

Good. Hogan could use a little luck.


	8. The Acceptable Americans

Carter grabbed the bottom bunk closest to the door and stowed his box of belongings. Behind him, he could hear a few of the other prisoners squabble over top bunks.

"All right, that's enough," Carter ordered without turning, suddenly feeling the weight of the stripes on his arm. He had no doubt he was the highest ranking man there. Of course, except for Colonel Hogan, the same thing was true in Barracks 2, but he had been more than happy to abdicate his leadership responsibilities to the more-capable Kinch. But Kinch wasn't here, and he wasn't sure what kind of men he was dealing with now. So, until he could determine who had actual leadership qualities, he would be in charge.

"It's only going to be temporary anyway," Carter continued. "As soon as Corporal Weiss gets transferred, everything will go back to normal." Of that, Carter had no doubt. Hogan would want everyone back to where they were most useful to the organization.

"Yeah, all right," someone grumbled. The fighting died down as the men grabbed the bunk closest to them.

Carter sighed and turned to face the other prisoners. "Is anyone here already from Barracks 1?" he asked. The men murmured amongst themselves and all shook their heads. Carter frowned. That meant that none of them knew where the tunnel entrance was. Carter himself had never had reason to go up into Barracks 1 from the tunnels, so he didn't know either. Although he supposed if it were really necessary to use it, they would find it in a hurry. "Anyone share a barracks with anyone else before?"

"Corporal Weber and I were in Barracks 7," someone reported. "I'm Private Becker, by the way."

"Anyone else?"

"Me, Wagner, and Hoffmann were all in Barracks 12," another man said. Carter vaguely recognized him as Sergeant Klein, one of the operation's forgers.

"I guess there's a lot of introductions to be made," Carter finally said when no one else responded. "I'm Sergeant Carter."

"We know who you are," someone said nonchalantly. Of course. Everyone in camp knew Colonel Hogan's core team- they were all leaders amongst the prisoners.

"Right. Well, like I said, this is probably only temporary. The colonel will sort everything out. In the meantime, I guess it'll be nice to have a change of scenery and some new faces." There was a chorus of agreement and the men went about putting their stuff away and introducing themselves to each other. Carter took a moment to count them- 17 men. That left three empty beds. Carter wasn't sure there were enough beds in camp to keep that many empty. He wondered if that meant something- why hadn't Weiss assigned 20 men to this barracks? Were they somehow special? Maybe more would join them once everything became less chaotic.

Carter shrugged and climbed into his bunk. He tucked his poster under his mattress then opened his box of things. There was a little shelf on the wall, and he began filling it with his things. Near the bottom of his box were a few framed pictures. Carter pulled out one and smiled- the last picture of him with his family. He brushed his thumb across it. Life got so busy at Stalag 13 that he sometimes forgot to look at it for weeks on end. It was probably for the best since right now he felt a wave of homesickness.

Shaking his head, he put the picture on the shelf and grabbed another. He stopped short and peered at it intently. He didn't recognize the woman and little girl in the picture. Surely he hadn't been away from home so long that he would forget someone in his own picture! Carter tilted his head as he peered at the picture, racking his brain to try and dredge up some memory.

"Oh," he finally said aloud as it clicked. This wasn't his picture. It had to be Goldman's. He faintly remembered Goldman showing it to him once- it was his wife and daughter. Carter must have scooped it into his box after their stuff had spilled onto his bunk. Carter tucked the picture into his pocket. Corporal Weiss had confined all the prisoners to barracks for the rest of the day, so he would have to give it to Goldman tomorrow.

"So what now?" Corporal Weber asked.

"We're confined to barracks the rest of the day," Private Becker said sourly. "Anyone up for a game of cards?"

"Gin?" Carter asked as he slid onto the bench. Might as well see if he were really a good gin player, or if everyone else in Barracks 2 was just terrible.

"Yeah, sure," Becker said with a shrug. Two more men joined them and introduced themselves as Privates Kramer and Ziegler.

Carter swiftly won the first game and they were just about to start another when the barracks' door opened and Corporal Weiss stepped in. Carter couldn't help but groan as he set down his cards and waited for Weiss to tell them why he was there.

"Right after morning roll call, the men of Barracks 1 will report to the rec hall," Weiss announced.

Carter raised an eyebrow and glanced at the other men at the table. They shrugged. "Why?" Carter finally asked.

"You will be shown a movie," Weiss explained somewhat cordially which surprised Carter. In fact his whole demeanor seemed off. Instead of glowering over them, trying to intimidate him, Weiss seemed almost relaxed. A relaxed Kraut was normally a good thing, but Carter wasn't about to let his guard down.

"What kind of a movie?" Sergeant Klein asked suspiciously.

"You will see," Weiss said shortly.

"Sorry," Private Becker said with a snort. "I'm doing laundry after roll call."

"Yeah," Carter said humorously, "I'm planning on washing my hair."

"I've got this sick friend, see," Private Brandt added.

"My horoscope told me it's a bad day for movies tomorrow," Private Kramer joked.

"Enough!" Weiss snapped, turning red. "You will be there or you will face the consequences!"

"What consequences?" Private Ziegler asked.

"He'll force us to watch the movie _without_ popcorn," Brandt laughed.

"Stop!" Weiss growled. "If you are not there, I will have you all thrown into the cooler. You will be at the rec hall at 0900, no exceptions. You will learn to appreciate your place in the new order!" And with that, Weiss stormed out of the barracks.

"Boo!" Hoffmann called after him, throwing his pillow at the door. Carter sucked in a breath, waiting for Weiss to storm back in, but he didn't much to Carter's relief.

"What was that all about?" Ziegler wondered, scratching his head.

"I dunno," Carter said. "Can't be good."

"What did he mean we would learn to appreciate our place in the new order?" Brandt asked.

"I dunno," Carter repeated, feeling uneasy. He wished Colonel Hogan were here. At least when he didn't have any answers, the men trusted he would find them. Carter doubted anyone would show such confidence in him.

"Hey, wait a minute," Klein said, snapping his fingers. "Do you guys notice something? Take a look around." Carter looked around but apparently missed what was so obvious to Klein.

"What?" Ziegler asked curiously.

"Look at us- all blond hair, blue eyes. And we all have German last names," Klein explained.

"So?" Kramer said, confused.

"So, Weiss must consider us part of his Aryan master race," Klein concluded.

"That's ridiculous," Brandt scoffed. "Nazis have nothing but contempt for Americans."

"Maybe he's making an exception for those of us with German roots," Klein said with a shrug.

"So what? He thinks he can bombard us with propaganda and brainwash us into joining the 'glorious' Third Reich?" Becker asked with a snort.

"Anyone have any other ideas?" Klein asked.

"That theory doesn't explain me," Carter pointed out. "I'm not German at all."

"I heard you're an Indian, ain't you?" Klein said. "I think Hitler considers the Sioux Aryan too."

That explained Weiss' interest in him. Carter grimaced and had to concede Klein's point. "All right, we'll keep that as a working theory."

"So what do we do?" Kramer asked.

Carter shrugged. "I don't know. I guess we go to the movie and take it for what it is- a pile of cockamamie propaganda manufactured by a bunch of lunatics."


	9. Propaganda Fail

Carter's description of the movie was far too generous. His mother would wash his mouth out with a dozen bars of soap if he said exactly what he thought about it. At least it was too heavy-handed to be effective. He was positive the other men viewed it with the same contempt he did.

Carter stalked out into the compound, and looked around, hoping to catch a glimpse of the colonel or anyone else from the team. He spotted Newkirk's lanky form near Barracks 12 and rushed over. "Newkirk!"

Newkirk turned and tipped his head. "Carter. Glad to see you survived the night in your new barracks. How was it?" he asked when Carter came close.

Carter shrugged. "My bunkmate doesn't snore nearly as loud as you do," he replied with a grin.

"Sod off."

"What about you. You making new friends? Playing nice with everyone?"

Newkirk scoffed. "I am nothing if not charming, Andrew me lad. Of course I've made new friends. Everyone loves me."

"Right," Carter drawled with a cheeky grin.

"All right, so I may have picked a fight with some toff who thought he was too good to share a hut with the likes of me, but other than that, I'm rooming with some good blokes."

"Newkirk. Carter." Both turned to see LeBeau and Kinch heading over.

"Hey guys. How are things?"

Kinch's only response was to shrug. Kinch was never one to complain, and Carter suspected that far from marking indifference, the gesture belied his frustration at the whole situation. LeBeau, on the other hand, had no issue making his anger known.

"Terrible!" LeBeau said hotly. "There are only three other Frenchmen in camp, and so we have been house with the Canadians! Their French is terrible! Atrocious! So provincial!"

Carter hid a smile. Poor LeBeau. "You'll be nice to them though, won't you?" he implored.

At this, LeBeau scowled. "Oh oui. Bisset tried to start a fight, but the Canadians were too disciplined to uh- what is it- eat the bait."

"Well be careful, mate- you can only push them so far," Newkirk said as if speaking from experience.

"Has anyone seen the colonel?" Kinch asked, looking past them to scan the compound.

"I have not seen him yet," LeBeau reported with a shake of his head. "Do you think he has a plan?"

"I sure hope so," Kinch replied.

Carter rocked on his heels and shoved his hands into his pockets. He felt the picture frame, reminding him of his errand. "Look, I gotta return something to Goldman. Have any of you seen him?" The others shook their heads. "Hmmm. Well, I'll just run over to his barracks. I'll be back in a sec."

"Go ahead," Kinch said, waving him off. Carter fired off a mock salute before running off towards Barracks 20.

No one was loitering outside the hut and all the shutters were closed. Carter tentatively knocked on the door before pushing it open and stepping in. A few men looked up at his arrival, breathing out sighs of relief. They probably thought he was a guard, although he didn't really know of any guards who bothered to knock- least of all Weiss.

"Hiya fellas," Carter greeted. "Goldman around?" Carter scanned the room and it suddenly occurred to him that there were far too many men crammed into the hut. And another thing made his stomach sink- all of them were wearing yellow stars.

"Over here, Carter," Goldman said, as he jumped off one of the top bunks. Goldman squeezed past a few other men to meet Carter at the door. "What's up?"

"Geez, you're all packed in here like sardines, aren't you?" Carter remarked lightly. "And what's with the new accessory?"

"Compliments of Corporal Weiss," Goldman said, flicking the patch on his shirt. "I guess he wants to make it easier to round us up. You know we're only allowed outside for an hour every day?"

"What? You mean you're stuck in here all day?" Carter cried, appalled. Even if it wasn't overcrowded, being cooped up inside all day did not appeal to Carter at all. That had to be against the Geneva Convention or something.

"Yeah, well, I have a feeling it won't last long. I get the idea that Weiss is planning on transferring us out of camp," Goldman said gravely.

Carter's eyes widened. "What? Where?"

"He didn't say. But I doubt it'll be as cozy as it is here."

"Does the colonel know?" Carter asked, suddenly feeling a surge of panic. He had heard the rumours, of course. They all had. Wherever Weiss was planning on sending Goldman and the others, the chances of them getting through the war alive were slim.

"I don't know. I haven't seen him since yesterday," Goldman replied.

"Well, I'll tell him first chance I get. Don't worry about it, guys- the colonel isn't going to let anything happen. If it comes down to it, we'll rescue you before you get a mile down the road."

Goldman offered him a small smile. "Yeah, we know. We'll be all right. Anyway, what brings you here?"

"Oh, right." Carter pulled the picture out of his pocket and handed it off to Goldman. "I think this is yours."

Goldman took it and looked it over. A grin broke out on his face. "Whew. I thought I lost it. Thanks, Carter."

"No problem. I didn't find anything else, but if I do, I'll bring it over."

"Sure. Thanks. Same here."

"Great. Listen, I'm going to find the colonel. I'll see you guys later."

Goldman nodded and Carter quickly slipped out of the hut. This wasn't good. Of all the changes Weiss had made, this was the most troubling. This could get very dangerous, very quickly. Klink might have had his faults, but he was completely dismissive of the most nefarious aspects of Nazi ideology.

"Halt! Stop there!"

Carter paused, not sure if the order was directed at him. He looked around and saw Weiss marching towards him. Since there was no one nearby, he must have been Weiss' target. Carter stiffened as Weiss stopped in front of him.

"What were you doing in there?" Weiss demanded.

Carter looked over his shoulder at Barracks 20 and then back to Weiss. "I was returning something that ended up in my stuff," he replied evenly.

Weiss looked past him at the barracks and growled. "I told them they were to stay in there."

"They did," Carter said quickly. "I went to them!"

Weiss ignored him. "I will teach them a lesson." He pushed past Carter and marched off.

Carter went into full panic mode. It made no sense for him to punish Goldman and the others, but he suspected that didn't matter to Weiss. Any excuse was a good excuse. He had no idea what sort of punishment Weiss had in mind, but he knew he didn't want to find out. Quickly scanning the ground, Carter found a good sized rock and scooped it up. Turning on his heel to face Weiss, Carter threw the rock as hard as he could. He was rewarded with a 'clang' as the rock hit Weiss' helmet.

The hulking man stopped dead in his tracks and Carter's heart stopped. When Weiss turned and glared at him, Carter was convinced that he had acted rashly and stupidly. The guard's face turned red and he started to shake with rage. Carter cursed under his breath and took a step back just as Weiss stepped towards him.

"You!" Weiss roared. Carter paled. Oh bad. Bad, bad, bad.

"Um…"

"You learned nothing."

"What? You mean from that film?" Carter pushed his panic down and summoned up a bit of courage. "You mean that piece of garbage we watched this morning?"

Weiss let out a cry of rage and swung a huge fist at Carter. Carter ducked and dodged to the side. Even though the punch didn't hit him, he could feel its force as it came past him.

"You would defend those vermin?" Weiss cried, trying to land another blow. Carter jumped back, barely escaping again. "You deny your superiority and mingle with animals!"

If he wasn't before, Carter was now convinced that Weiss was absolutely crazy- blinded by an insane ideology that decreed that some people were subhuman, and others were their masters. Somehow Weiss had put him in the latter group and the fact that he rejected the whole idea made him some sort of traitor.

Oh. Weiss' comment the other day now made sense.

"You are disgusting," Weiss roared. Right back at you, Carter thought as he dove out of the way of another swing. He didn't quite get out of the way and felt a hand clamp around his leg. With a grunt Carter dropped to the ground. Weiss pulled him back and Carter tried to find some sort of purchase to stop himself. But it was no use. Weiss lifted him into the air. Carter struggled, trying to get in a punch or a kick with his free leg. Again, it was futile.

"I have no use for you," Weiss declared, bringing Carter up over his shoulder. Carter's heart raced. Weiss was going to smash him into the ground like a man hitting a strongman game with a mallet at a carnival. It would break every bone in his body.

Weiss was going to kill him.


	10. The Dead Body

Hogan jogged up to LeBeau, Kinch and Newkirk who were gathered together in a group. They were talking about Weiss in low voices, no doubt trying to answer the question that was dogging everyone in camp- what to do about Weiss. Hogan was half-tempted to just shoot him and deal with the consequences as they came. But, of course, that was a drastic course of action, and they weren't quite that desperate yet. Still, he didn't think they could wait until he was transferred out. He had the feeling that segregating the camp was just step one in whatever plan Weiss had in his head.

"Hey guys," Hogan greeted them.

"Colonel," the replied in unison.

"Any ideas?" Hogan asked.

"Why don't we tell him someone fell into the well, and when he looks, we push him in," Newkirk suggested lazily.

"Been talking to Carter?" Hogan asked, amused. "Speaking of, where is Carter?" He looked around, hoping to spot his missing demolition's expert.

"He went to go return something to Goldman," Kinch informed him. "Said he would be back pretty quick." Hogan accepted that with a shrug.

"Anyway, what would he suggest other than blowing Weiss up?" Newkirk joked.

Hogan grinned. "Good point." Carter sometimes had a one-track mind.

"I still say poison is the answer," LeBeau said. "I am sure Carter can make something that cannot be traced."

"I'm not sure there's enough poison in the world that can take down Weiss," Hogan said. "But I'll keep it in mind."

"Why don't we-" Kinch was cut off by a commotion on the other side of the compound. They all turned to see Weiss in a rage trying to squash Carter with a series of powerful swings.

Hogan and the other exchanged alarmed looks before racing over as fast as they could. They stopped short when Weiss finally managed to grab hold of Carter, lifting him into the air.

"Colonel! He's-"

"Follow!" Hogan ordered shortly as he sped towards Weiss. Bracing himself, Hogan slammed his shoulder into Weiss' stomach. It was like running straight into a brick wall. He didn't think Weiss even felt him. Hogan wrapped his arms around Weiss' waist- though his arms didn't make it around- and tried to drive the behemoth back. Newkirk and Kinch each grabbed an arm, practically hanging off them as they tried to pull Weiss down.

"Rats!" Weiss cried. "Vermin!" The corporal threw the men off him, dropping Carter relatively unharmed on the ground. Hogan grabbed Carter to pull him away, but a mighty sweep of Weiss' arm knocked him to the ground. "You will all be crushed!"

Hogan rolled away just as Weiss brought his boot down. He scrambled to his feet and whirled around, putting up his fists. It was a pathetic gesture- there was no way he could do any damage to Weiss. But he noticed that Weiss was sweating. Under the rage that colored his face red, Hogan could make see he was pale and shaky. Just like that first night.

Suddenly, the loud clattering of a machine gun filled the air. Bullets spattered the ground close to them. It was plain to see that they were not meant to hit them, merely to get their attention.

"What is going on here?" Hogan heard Klink cry. He looked over his shoulder to see Klink and Schultz hurrying towards them.

Gulping down air like he could not get enough, Weiss stopped his attempt to crush the prisoners. "Kommandant! This traitor threw a rock at me," he cried, pointing a shaky finger at Carter. "And then these, these, these filthy prisoners attacked me!" Pulling himself to his full height, he bared down on Klink. "I want them shot! All of them!"

"Corporal Weiss, calm down. No one is going to be shot," Klink said hesitantly.

"Then I will tear them limb from limb myself!" Weiss roared. "I will grind them into the ground! I will-" Weiss suddenly gasped and clutched his chest.

"Corporal Weiss?" Klink asked. "Corporal?"

Weiss cried out and then, without another sound, dropped to the ground.

Everyone froze in shock. They waited, unsure of what had happened, but Weiss didn't move.

"Corporal Weiss?" Klink squeaked. "Schultz!"

Shaking like a leaf, Schultz tentatively approached Weiss and slowly knelt beside him. He tried to roll the massive man onto his back, but didn't have the strength.

Though he wasn't convinced it wasn't a trick, Hogan knelt down beside Schultz and motioned Kinch to join him. Together they managed to roll Weiss over. His face was contorted in shock and pain, but was still. Schultz grabbed Weiss' wrist then put his fingers against his throat.

"Well?!" Klink demanded.

"Herr Kommandant, I beg to report… I beg to report…"

"What is it Schultz?" Klink said, his tone bordering on hysterical.

Schultz's gums flapped, but he couldn't seem to form any words. Finally Hogan took Weiss' wrist and confirmed his suspicion.

"He's dead."


	11. The Truth

Klink was dumbfounded. "What do you mean he's dead?" he demanded.

"Just that," Hogan replied as he dropped Weiss' hand, letting it flop limply to the ground. "He's dead; Kaput; Finito; Cashed in his chips; Pushing up daisies; Bit the dust; Sleeping with the fishes; pick a euphemism, he's it."

Klink gaped, his mouth hanging open as Hogan's words sunk in. "But- but- but he can't be dead!" he finally cried. "How?"

Hogan stood up and scratched the back of his neck. "Heart attack, I think."

"A heart attack?" Klink repeated. "But he was so healthy! So strong! That's not possible!"

Hogan shrugged. "I don't know what else it could be," he confessed. "Maybe his heart just burst with his love of the Fuhrer."

The last remark snapped Klink out of his shock and he stomped his foot. "Hogan!"

"Sorry, sir, bad taste."

Klink narrowed his eyes and snorted. "Schultz, confine all prisoners to the barracks!"

Schultz awkwardly rose to his feet and nodded vigorously. "Jawohl, Herr Kommandant. But what about Corporal Weiss? What are we going to do with him?"

"Get a detail and have them carry him to… to…" This had never happened before. Just what did they do with a dead guard? If Hogan didn't know, Klink certainly didn't. "Take him into the rec hall. Now, get all the prisoners inside!"

Schultz nodded again and saluted Klink. "Jawohl! Everyone back in the barracks! Back, back, back." Schultz shooed Newkirk and LeBeau along. Hogan reached down and helped Carter to his feet. The sergeant grunted and shifted his weight off one leg, leaning against his commanding officer.

"You okay, Carter?" Hogan asked.

"Yeah," Carter replied, though he hissed in pain. "I don't think he broke it, but it sure does hurt."

"We'll take a look at it when we get back to the barracks," Hogan said.

"Oh no," Klink said. "You two are coming to my office. Now! Langenscheidt!" At Klink's shout, Corporal Langenscheidt scurried over. "Escort Colonel Hogan and Sergeant Carter to my office immediately!" And with that, Klink turned on his heel and marched off, one arm tucked behind his back.

"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant," Langenscheidt said with a quick salute. "This way," he ordered, anxiously ushering Hogan and Carter along after Klink.

Hogan slung Carter's arm over his shoulder, taking some of the weight off his leg. "What the hell happened, Carter?" he asked as they slowly walked after Klink.

"Colonel, Weiss was going to- I mean all I did- I… I was just returning something to Goldman, and when Weiss saw me leave the barracks, he said he was going to teach them a lesson. And, well, I just knew he was going to do something awful, so I guess- I had to stop him," Carter explained in a hurry.

"So you threw a rock at him?"

"I knew that wouldn't stop him, but I thought… well, I guess I wasn't thinking, sir."

Hogan sighed and shook his head. "I don't know whether to give you a medal, or take your stripes. On the one hand, that was a damned stupid thing to do. On the other, you may have saved Goldman and the others. On the both hands Corporal Weiss is dead."

Carter winced. "Yeah, I guess that solves one problem, but…"

"But may just cause a whole lot more," Hogan groaned. Weiss wasn't an average flunky; there were going to be a lot of powerful and dangerous people who wouldn't be too happy about the situation.

"I'm sorry I messed it all up," Carter said miserably.

"We'll figure it out," Hogan assured him as they climbed up the steps to Klink's office. "Better him than one of us, anyway."

Klink was standing at his desk, hand pressed down on it, and glaring at the door when Hogan and Carter entered his office. Upon their arrival, his glare intensified and he shot an accusatory finger at them. "Hogan, I want to know what happened, and I want to know right now!" he demanded.

"I don't know what to tell you, Colonel," Hogan said with a little shrug.

His nonchalant attitude wasn't going to work this time. Klink smacked his desk. "Colonel Hogan, one of my guards is dead, and your men are to blame for it. I have every right to shoot every man involved in that fight right now. And I will if you do not tell me what happened." Before Hogan could answer, he turned his attention to Carter. "Sergeant Carter? Perhaps you would care to explain?"

"Well, I-" Carter looked at Hogan helplessly.

Hogan let out a long sigh. Not even he could tap dance his way around this. Klink was right, Weiss was dead. To make matters worse, Klink and the other guards had seen the fight take place beforehand. Possibly one of the guards had seen Carter throw the rock. There was no way to sweep this under the rug. No story he could invent to shift blame.

Well, extraordinary circumstances required extraordinary solutions. He'd try telling the truth for once.

"All right, here's what happened, Colonel," Hogan said. "Carter paid a visit to one of the barracks to return a personal item another prisoner left behind. For no good reason Weiss didn't like that and he decided he would take it out on the other prisoners. So, Carter decided to stop him-"

"By throwing a rock at him?" Klink cried.

"It was just a little one," Carter said. He squint his eyes a little as he illustrated the size of the rock with his thumb and finger.

"That does not make it better," Klink fumed.

"Look, it was dumb and stupid, but Weiss overreacted. If my men and I hadn't stepped in, Weiss would have killed Carter, and that's the truth of it."

"You are prisoners of war!" Klink cried. "Do you expect me to be happy that my guard is dead instead of one of you?!"

"Well, no sir," Carter said hastily, "but it wouldn't have been fair if something had happened to Goldman when I was the one who-"

"Goldman?" Klink interrupted.

Carter winced and Hogan shot him a look. He had purposefully left the other names out of it. The fewer men dragged into this situation the better.

"What about Goldman, Sergeant Carter?" Klink demanded.

"I was just returning something to him," Carter insisted. "I didn't even know Corporal Weiss had ordered them to stay inside. I guess he didn't want them to have any visitors either and, well sir, I just thought I should take the punishment and not them. After all-"

"Carter, stop talking," Hogan ordered. He was going to get them all shot.

Klink let out a sigh and dropped his head, giving it a shake. He muttered something under his breath that Hogan didn't quite catch. Then he smacked his desk in frustration. "Sergeant Carter, you will spend thirty days in solitary confinement."

Out of habit, Hogan began to protest. "Thirty days! Colonel Klink that's a-"

"Unless, of course, the Gestapo wants to shoot you," Klink interrupted darkly. Hogan winced. Carter paled, but stood a little taller, tightening his jaw, and for a moment Hogan had to admire him. Of course, it would never come down to Carter getting shot- Hogan would get him out of dodge before that happened. But he also knew that Carter was willing to stand by his actions whatever the consequences.

"I will have to inform them of what happened." Klink continued, before letting out a little whine. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "I can see the Russian front now. Oh, how could this happen to me?" He threw his arms out and let them drop to his side. "Corporal Weiss was sent here especially by the Gestapo. By General Burkhalter. When I tell them what happened-"

"That Corporal Weiss had a heart attack?" Hogan interrupted.

"That he was attacked by prisoners and _then_ had a heart attack!"

"I'd leave that first part out if I were you, sir," Hogan suggested. "I won't tell. You won't tell. I'm sure Schultz won't tell."

Klink narrowed his eyes and pegged Hogan with an accusatory finger. "Are you suggesting that I lie to the Gestapo?"

Hogan shrugged his shoulders and bobbed his head a little. "Mmmm, it's more like I'm suggesting that you withhold certain information." When Klink didn't answer right away, Hogan applied some pressure. "The Russian front is going to get awfully cold, awfully soon."

"But they will never believe that Weiss just had a heart attack without provocation," Klink said in a tone that invited Hogan to come up with some sort of solution for him.

"If I may sir, Corporal Weiss was a very big man, and his heart was probably under a lot of stress as it was for it to just give out like that. After all, the fight didn't even last that long, and we barely even touched him and-" Carter cut himself off before he could start to babble.

"I will never work," Klink lamented.

"You can give it the old college try," Hogan said.

"I do not appreciate your levity!" Klink snapped. "Schultz!" A moment later, Schultz lumbered into the office. "Schultz, take Colonel Hogan and Sergeant Carter to the cooler immediately."

"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant," Schultz said with a salute. He clicked his tongue and jerked his thumb to the door. "All right, off to the cooler."

"Colonel, I-" Hogan started, but Klink cut him off.

"Take them away," Klink said with a wave of his hand.

Hogan grunted. Once he got into the tunnels, he and his men would have to come up with something fast if they wanted to divert a total disaster. There was no way Klink would stand up to the Gestapo. He shouldn't have used the truth gambit, but at the time there had been no other obvious solution.

"And Schultz," Klink said as they were halfway out the door. "Tell the prisoners in Barracks 20 to take off those ridiculous patches."

"Right away, Herr Kommandant. Right away."

"Patches?" Hogan asked when they were out in the compound.

"Yellow stars," Carter said.

"To mark them as Jews," Schultz explained in a low voice. "Corporal Weiss insisted. The Kommandant was not happy."

Hogan raised an eyebrow. He knew Klink hadn't been a fan of Weiss' gung-ho Nazi attitude, but he wondered if, maybe, despite all the complications, Klink was actually relieved that Weiss was dead.


	12. A Coward and a Liar

Klink paced back and forth behind his desk, eyeing the phone anxiously with each turn. Of course he needed to call the Gestapo. Or General Burkhalter. He just wasn't sure which option was worse.

Corporal Weiss was dead. Klink couldn't pretend he was sad about it. Panicked, yes. Petrified, absolutely. But sad? No.

Weiss had been a contemptible man. Downright nasty, Weiss was a fanatical Nazi, hell-bent on implementing some sort of racial utopia, starting with Stalag 13. That sort of thing Klink could do without.

He realized, of course, that such thoughts were downright treasonous. Weiss' goals were no different than those of the Fuhrer or any of the other men in the high command. But somehow, Klink had managed to blind himself to the most horrific parts of the Third Reich's ambitions, and had focused solely on the opportunity it provided to return honour to the Fatherland. And then Weiss had brought the more unsavory elements front and center to Klink's attention with his firm insistence on segregating the camp. And he was sure that that would only have been the beginning.

And what could he have done about it? Aside from having the backing of the Gestapo and General Burkhalter, Weiss had been huge. He could have simply used brute force to impose his will upon Klink and the camp. Might, as the saying went, makes right. It was certainly a motto adopted by the High Command.

So he would have had no choice but to let Weiss have his way. Maybe even to the point of watching certain groups of prisoners being forced onto trucks to destinations unknown.

No, certainly not. He could not be that cowardly, could he?

Well, he supposed the problem had been solved for him. Weiss was dead, meaning he would never have to face how much of a coward he truly was. He was half-tempted to send Sergeant Carter a bottle of cognac.

But only half-tempted. The fact that he now had an even bigger problem to deal with put an end to that thought.

Now he had to call the Gestapo or General Burkhalter and explain to them just how, exactly, Corporal Weiss, a man in his prime, could drop dead from a heart attack. If it had indeed been a heart attack. What if the prisoners had actually murdered him?

But how would they have killed Corporal Weiss? Surely they didn't have the proper means to accomplish such a task. Many strange things had happened since Colonel Hogan had arrived at Stalag 13, but outright murder? That would be too fantastic even for him to pull off.

But a heart attack? He had been so healthy just this morning. A heart attack couldn't just happen so suddenly, could it?

Klink groaned. What a disaster. Never mind what would happen to the prisoners- if it wasn't merely a heart attack, then the Gestapo would have _him_ shot. Or worse.

Perhaps he should get a doctor to come and perform an autopsy. Perhaps Hogan knew someone who could give them the results they wanted.

No, that was ridiculous. Sometimes Klink found himself thinking of Hogan as some sort of magician who could make all their troubles disappear- and to be fair, it often seemed that was the case- but how could Hogan possibly help in this situation? And besides, the Gestapo would have its own doctor to examine Weiss anyway.

Klink sunk into his chair, burying his face in his hands. It all seemed so hopeless. Klink wished that Corporal Weiss had never set foot in Stalag 13. In fact, it was times like these that Klink wished Germany had never set foot in Poland.

Klink wearily stood up again and made his way to his liquor cabinet. There he poured himself a stiff drink, gulped it down, and then poured another. He took his glass and nursed it back at his desk, keeping a wary eye on the phone.

When his second drink was nearly gone, Klink reached for the phone, but stopped short. There was one important thing he had to do before he made the call.

"Schultz!"

Klink was never really sure how Schultz always heard him when he hollered- perhaps he just had great lung capacity- but it didn't take long before the sergeant of the guard filled the doorway.

"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant?" Schultz puffed as he offered a quick salute.

"Schultz, did you get Corporal Weiss into the rec hall?" Schultz nodded. "Very good. Now Sergeant Schultz, I don't want there to be any confusion amongst your men about what happened to Corporal Weiss. It is my understanding that he..." Klink paused. He was about to marry himself to a lie and he prayed that it would turn out for the best.

"That he what, Herr Kommandant?" Schultz asked.

"That he suffered a heart attack while leading the guards in calisthenics. That _is_ what happened, wasn't it?"

"But Herr Kommandant, Sergeant Carter hit him with a rock and then the other pri-" Schultz cut himself off under Klink's withering glare. "I mean, I remember they were quite vigorous calisthenics. I, myself, had a hard time keeping up!"

Now _that_ was something any dummkopf would believe- even the Gestapo. "Very good. Now I want you to make sure that the other guards remember exactly what happened as well."

"Oh that will be no problem. All the men have been complaining about him," Schultz said somewhat sourly. "I mean, about all the exercise he made us do," he added quickly. "Of course we have no problem following the regulations as outlined by our glorious-"

"Yes, yes," Klink said dismissively. "Make sure you inform the prisoners as well."

"I will go to each barracks personally!" Schultz said.

"Very well. You may go now, Schultz. I have a phone call to make."

"Jawohl." And with a salute, Schultz left.

Klink let out a little sigh. The lie was set. Maybe if they all stuck to the same story, they could get out of this mess without anyone getting shot- so long as Weiss really did die of a heart attack. And if he hadn't? Well, then everyone would be shot no matter what story they told.

With that cheerful thought in mind, Klink took a deep breath and grabbed the phone.


	13. Orders from London

Once Schultz had closed the door to their cell, Hogan helped Carter onto the lone cot. The sergeant grunted as he carefully tried to keep any weight off his one leg.

"All right, let me take a look at that leg, Carter," Hogan ordered as he knelt down in front of him.

"Gee, sir, I didn't realize you'd been a prisoner that long," Carter said with a wobbly smile.

"Funny," Hogan said flatly. "Come on lift up your pant leg."

"I'm all right," Carter argued, but started rolling up his pants anyway, obedient as always. He hissed partway through the process and faltered, but took a deep breath and kept rolling until it was to his knee. Hogan winced in sympathy as he looked over the damage. Carter's leg was deep purple and swollen. Hogan had no problem believing that Weiss' hand was big enough to envelop and crush the entire thing. Carter was lucky it wasn't broken.

"How does it look?" Carter asked.

"Well, you're no Betty Grable," Hogan said. "Wilson'll have to take a look at that."

"Yeah," Carter sighed. "Look, Colonel, I'm awful sorry about-"

Hogan cut him off. "Don't worry about it, Carter. You did the right thing." Well, maybe not. There were probably a hundred different things Carter could have done, but Hogan couldn't think of one. Carter had made a split second decision and had quite likely saved his fellow prisoners from a severe beating, or worse. Hogan couldn't say he would have done it differently.

Right or not though, that didn't change the fact that Weiss was dead. And since he had been brought in under the orders of the Gestapo and General Burkhalter that meant the Klink was in potential danger. Hogan groaned and massaged his forehead. If it was not one thing, it was another.

"We'll figure it out," Hogan said, more to himself than Carter.

"Sure we will. You'll think of something, sir; you always do."

Hogan resisted the urge to heave a sigh. Ah, yes, the burden of command. He always marvelled at how clever his men _thought_ he was. The operation had only been going for a few months, and they had made such progress, done so many seemingly impossible things, that he supposed he couldn't blame them. But it was a lot to live up to. There would come a day, he was sure, when he just wouldn't be clever enough.

But today was not that day, Hogan decided firmly. He would figure something out. Not only would they save Klink, but they would also find whatever Frankenstein laboratory Weiss had hatched in, and burn it to the ground. After, of course, getting whatever information they could on the correlating Nazi experiment and sending it off to London.

Speaking of London, Hogan had yet to inform them of the situation. He had been so paranoid that Weiss had the power to hear their underground activities that they had barely been down in the tunnels since he arrived.

"Do you remember which barracks Kinch was in?" Hogan asked.

Carter thought for a moment. "Nineteen, I think," he replied.

"Sounds right," Hogan concurred. "Look, stay here. Prop your leg up. I'll send Wilson to see you. Meanwhile, I gotta make a call."

"Calling London?" Carter asked. Hogan nodded. "To tell them what, exactly?" It wasn't a challenge, just curiosity.

The truth was Hogan didn't really know what was going on. He strongly suspected that Weiss was the result of some Nazi experiment- no one could be that big naturally. But he didn't know how big the project was, where it was taking place, who, exactly, was behind it, and how close to completion it was. If Weiss really had had a heart attack it meant that, while the Nazis had managed to create a human juggernaut, his body hadn't been able to fully adjust to the results. He couldn't see any other explanation for his sudden death. All in all, Hogan didn't have a whole lot of information to relay to London, and what he did have sounded ludicrous.

Still, London was already steamed with him over the lack of intel on the Berlin Betty brainwashing experiment he had foiled not that long ago, so Hogan decided to err on the side of caution and send what information he could as this latest mission evolved.

"To tell them everything I know," Hogan finally said. "What did you call that stuff the Nazis were experimenting with?"

"Steroids, sir. Testosterone, specifically. But I can't be sure," he quickly added.

"Right. Well, that's start. London might already know more about it than we do; maybe they can shed some light on it for us. Okay, hang tight."

Carter nodded and started shifting to get himself comfortable. Hogan moved over to the entrance to the tunnel and pushed in the heavy stone block that hid it. Then he wiggled through the narrow passage to the main tunnels.

A sign on the dirt wall directed him towards Barracks seventeen through twenty so he headed that way. Quickly he climbed the ladder to Barracks 19, and tapped lightly on the trap door. A moment later, it opened and he poked his head up.

"Colonel!" It was Kinch, sounding relieved. The sergeant crouched near the entrance. "You're all right! We weren't sure what Klink was going to do after he hauled you into his office."

"Yeah, we're all right. Honestly, I think Klink was actually kind of glad to have Weiss out of his metaphorical hair."

"What about the Gestapo?" Kinch asked seriously. "I can't imagine they'll be too happy about it."

Hogan grimaced. "We'll cross that bridge when we get there. Until then, we need to get on the horn with London. Come on." Hogan beckoned Kinch to follow him. They quickly climbed down the ladder and hurried to the radio. While Kinch warmed it up, Hogan quickly climbed up the nearby ladder and knocked on the entrance to Barracks 2. The trap door opened with a clatter and Hogan climbed up. "Olsen," he called when he reached the top.

Olsen poked his head out from behind Carter's old bunk, apparently having been keeping watch at the door. "Colonel?"

"Go into my office and sit on the coffeepot. I want to know who Klink contacts and what he says about Weiss," Hogan ordered. "Garlotti." The young private straightened up. "Find out where Wilson is and send him over to the cooler to check up on Carter."

"Yes sir." Garlotti threw him a salute and quickly slipped out the barracks door.

Satisfied, Hogan climbed back down the ladder and hit the lever that would close the trap above him. "Do you have London yet, Kinch?"

"Just a minute, Colonel," Kinch said, shaking his microphone a little to show he was working on it. "Papa Bear to Goldilocks, come in Golidlocks."

There was a rush of static in response. Kinch repeated his call again and then once more before they received a reply. "This is Goldilocks, Papa Bear. Go ahead," a female voice said.

Kinch slipped off his head set and handed it to Hogan, who took it and the microphone. "Goldilocks, Big Bad Wolf potentially has a new, top secret project."

"What sort of project, Papa Bear?" Goldilocks asked.

"We can't be too sure yet. We don't have all the information, but it looks like they're trying to create some sort of... superman."

"A superman?" Goldilocks repeated.

Hogan nodded, though he knew Goldilocks obviously couldn't see the gesture. "That's right. We think they're experimenting with a chemical- a steroid of some sort- in order to turn average soldiers into super soldiers- giants with super-strength and hearing and a bad temper." He had been right, the whole thing really did sound ludicrous.

"Hold on a moment, Papa Bear."

There were a few moments of silence. Kinch and Hogan shared a look, wondering what exactly Goldilocks was going to say when she returned. Hogan wouldn't be surprised if she thought he had completely flipped and was recommending a replacement be sent immediately.

"Goldilocks to Papa Bear, are you still there, Papa Bear?" It was a man this time.

"I'm here, Goldilocks."

"Good. Now, listen, we think we might know what you're talking about here. A few months ago, we received a communiqué from one of our operatives in Berlin about a Project Stone Breaker, describing exactly what you've told us. Unfortunately our contact disappeared before he could collect any more information."

Hogan winced. Disappeared almost definitely meant he had been captured and/or killed.

"We sent another operative to look into it, but he disappeared as well. Whatever the Nazis are working on, it's serious and it needs to be stopped before it can be completed," Goldilocks said seriously. "Do you think you can handle that, Papa Bear?"

"We'll do our best, Goldilocks," Hogan replied.

"I certainly hope that will be good enough. If the scanty intel we have is correct and the Nazis succeed, they could amass an army that no one will be able to stop. The fate of the world could very well rest on the success of this mission."

"I understand, Goldilocks. We'll stop it."

"Good. Oh, and before you burn the project to the ground, be a good chap and get your hands on some research this time. We expect pictures at the very least, but papers and a scientist would be better. _Something_ useful."

"Will do," Hogan ground out, feeling his hackles go up. Stopping Project Stone Breaker would be a feat in and of itself, but if they didn't to get the research, London would count the whole thing as a failure.

"Jolly good. Goldilocks over and out."

With a grunt, Hogan handed the equipment back to Kinch. "They're not asking much," Kinch said with a sardonic grin. "You think we can do it?"

"We aren't stationed here because of our good looks," Hogan replied. "We'll do it, somehow. First thing though is we've got to make sure Klink doesn't get himself sent to the Russian Front over all of this."

"How?" Kinch asked.

"Well-"

Hogan was cut off by the sound of the trap door above them opening. A moment later, Olsen came into view as he shuffled down the ladder. He hopped off with two rungs to go, straightened, and gave Hogan a quick salute. "Good timing, Olsen," Hogan said. "What have you got?"

"Major Hochstetter is on his way over, Colonel," Olsen said quickly. "Klink called him and told him that Weiss had a heart attack after leading the guards in rigorous calisthenics."

Hogan arched an eyebrow at that. Klink had outright lied to the Gestapo to save him and Carter? No. Hogan shook his head. More likely Klink had lied to save his own skin. What would the Gestpo think, after all, if Klink's camp was so undisciplined that the prisoners could start a fight with a guard that ended with that guard's death? Still, Hogan had to hand it to Klink with coming up with that story on his own.

"All right, get back up top. Kinch, you too. Did Garlotti get Wilson?"

Olsen shook his head. "I don't know. He hasn't come back to the barracks yet."

"Well find him and quick. I want everyone in their own barracks until Major Hochstetter has left. Who knows what he'll do when he shows up."

"Right. Do you want to put the camp on alert?"

Hogan checked his watch, trying to estimate how much time they had until Hochstetter arrived. "Good idea. Spread the word and have everyone standing by and ready for anything. For all we know, Hochstetter could be coming with a squad to shoot every one of us. Get going, both of you. I gotta get back to the cooler- Klink will probably call for me any minute now."

The two sergeants nodded before heading off. Hogan ran with Kinch part way down the tunnel before they split to go in their own directions. Hogan raced to the cooler. Once inside, he quickly closed the entrance and straightened himself out.

"Everything okay in here, Carter?" Hogan asked.

"So far, so good," Carter replied. "What did London have to say?"

"The usual. Stop the bad guys, get the information. You know the drill. Has Schultz come by?"

"No. Are you expecting him?" Carter asked, glancing at the door.

"Major Hochstetter is on his way to camp. No doubt either he or Klink will want to talk to me," Hogan replied.

"The life of a star," Carter said with a lopsided smile.

"I think that's supposed to come with more dames," Hogan lamented before managing a smile of his own.

It didn't take long for them to hear Schultz down the hall. "Colonel Hogan?" the guard called tentatively from outside the cell.

"Present, Schultz," Hogan replied. He heard Schultz sigh in relief and the key slide into the lock and turn.

"Colonel Hogan, you are here," Schultz said when he opened the door.

"Where else would I be, Schultz?" Hogan asked.

At the very least, Schultz was smart enough not to answer that. "Colonel Hogan, Kommandant Klink wants to see you in his office. Major Hochstetter from the Gestapo is on his way to camp."

"So what does Klink need me for?" Hogan asked nonchalantly.

"Puh-leeze, Colonel Hogan. The Kommandant would feel so much better if you were there to support his story."

"You mean that Corporal Weiss had a heart attack while leading the guards in calisthenics? That story?" Hogan asked.

Schultz's eyes widened. "How did you... never mind, I know nothing! Yes, that story. Will you come, please?"

"Lead on Schultz," Hogan said, gesturing to the door with his cap. Schultz nodded and started to leave when he stopped and poked his head back in and looked to Carter.

"You will be a good boy and stay here, won't you?" Schultz asked.

"C'mon, Schultz. It's _Carter_ ," Hogan answered before Carter could. "Besides, where would he go anyway?"

Schultz frowned a little and bobbed his head from side to side. "Good point," he said before starting off down the hall.

Hogan lingered for a moment. "But, really, stay put. I'll get Wilson to you after Major Hochstetter leaves," he ordered. Carter fired off a salute, and with that, Hogan closed the cell door and followed after Schultz.


	14. A Good Gestapo Visit?

"I thought I was in the cooler for thirty days, Kommandant," Hogan said as he entered Klink's office.

From behind his desk, Klink scowled. "And I will not lose any sleep over extending your stay to sixty days," he snapped.

"Touchy," Hogan mock whispered to Schultz.

Klink smacked his desk. "Hogan! Why do you insist on always making jokes?!" With a sigh, Klink rubbed his forehead. "Hogan, no jokes, please. This is serious. I assume Schultz has told you that Major Hochstetter is coming." Hogan nodded. "And he told you what happened to Corporal Weiss?"

Again, Hogan nodded. "I remember thinking that Weiss was finally going to whip the guards into shape with all that exercise. It's a real shame he had a weak heart."

"Indeed," Klink said stiffly. He reached for the glass on his desk, his hand shaking. "Do you think Major Hochstetter will-"

A commotion in the ante-office cut him off. "Speak of the devil," Hogan muttered. A moment later, Major Hochstetter burst into the room.

"Klink!" Hochstetter screeched as he stomped to Klink's desk and slammed his hand down. He paused and looked back at Hogan. "What is this man doing here?"

"M-major Hochstetter," Klink said nervously, "Colonel Hogan witnessed what happened and I thought that perhaps you would want to question him?"

Hochstetter scowled at Hogan and then turned his deadly glare to Klink. "What happened?"

"It is like I said on the phone, Major," Klink said, his voice shaking. "Corporal Weiss was leading the guards in a new exercise routine-"

"A very _robust_ routine," Schultz interrupted. He shrank back when Hochstetter glowered at him.

"Yes, _thank-you_ , Schultz," Klink said tightly. "A very robust routine. Weiss thought he could turn this pathetic lot into real soldiers, and, as you can imagine, that required quite a bit of work."

"I do not doubt _that_ ," Hochstetter growled. "But how did he end up dead?"

Klink looked helplessly over to Hogan, who nodded slightly. Klink sucked in a breath and continued. "I believe he had a heart attack, Major."

"A _heart attack_?" Hochstetter seethed.

"Sure looked that way," Hogan said lightly, rocking a little on his heels. Hochstetter's glare did nothing to dissuade him from continuing. "My men and I saw the whole thing. Just grabbed his heart and-" he snapped his fingers- "keeled over. Believe me, Major, I was as surprised as anyone. I thought maybe it was some sort of trick orchestrated by The Iron Colonel here, but there was no way the guards are good enough actors to pull off the level of surprise that they did."

Hochstetter's eyes were full of fire, and Hogan worried that he didn't believe them at all. He didn't blame him. It was a pretty flimsy story. And even if it was true, Hochstetter was the type to disregard it anyway and shoot them all just for the hell of it.

Hochstetter made a fist, shaking slightly and everyone braced for the inevitable eruption. But, suddenly, the fire cooled and Hochstetter sagged. He swore under his breath and then turned back to Klink.

"Where is the body?" he asked tightly.

Behind his back, Hogan raised an eyebrow and shared a quick look with Schultz. So he bought the story, which meant Weiss' death wasn't totally unexpected. How many other Nazi guinea pigs had dropped dead as part of this experiment? Maybe it wasn't as big of a threat as Hogan first thought. Of course, it wouldn't be long before they perfected the experiment. The Nazis were crazy, but they weren't stupid. In fact, many of their inventions were downright brilliant. It was only a matter of time before they corrected whatever problems had led to Weiss' death.

"In the rec hall," Klink answered.

"I want to see it," Hochstetter said.

"Of course. Schultz?"

"Jawhol, Herr Kommandant. Major?" Schultz opened the door and gestured for Major Hochstetter to follow him.

Hochstetter growled, but quickly turned on his heel and marched out of the room. As soon as the door closed, Klink sagged and fell into his chair.

"He believed us," he said. His whole body shook and he looked like he was trying to decide whether to laugh or to cry. Evidently, he settled on both as he continued in a hysterical tone. "He believed us, Hogan!"

"Yeah, sure looks like it," Hogan said slowly. He pegged Klink with a look. "Pull yourself together, Kommandant. He's not going to believe you for long if he catches you falling apart in relief."

"You're right, you're right," Klink said, nodding furiously. He grabbed his drink and drained it with one big gulp. "But he believed us! Do you know what that means? No Russian Front. No firing squad! We're safe! And now we can put this whole mess behind us!" Klink giggled and brought his glass to his lips before realizing it was empty. He pulled it back and looked at it before hurrying to his liquor cabinet. "Would you care for a drink, Hogan?"

"I would hold off on celebrating just yet, Kommandant," Hogan warned. "Major Hochstetter hasn't left and who knows what he'll think after he sees Weiss' body."

"But Weiss _did_ die of a heart attack. He won't know how or why just by looking at him," Klink said. "And anyone he asks in camp will tell him the same story we did. What can he do?" Klink poured himself another drink as well as one for Hogan.

"Colonel, he's the _Gestapo_ ," Hogan said pointedly.

Klink blinked and gulped down his drink. "You're right. Since when do they need an excuse to do anything?" He looked at the second drink and quickly drank it as well.

"Hey, lay off the sauce," Hogan said quickly. "You're going to need all your wits to get through this, and you're playing with a short hand as it is."

"Hogan!" Klink cried, stomping his foot. "I can handle Major Hochstetter!" Hogan just raised an eyebrow. Klink scowled, but obediently put his bottle back into the cabinet and locked it up. "But perhaps I will save it for later."

"There you go."

They waited in awkward silence, wondering what would happen if and when Major Hochstetter returned. Hogan desperately wanted to leave to find out what was going on in the rec hall, but he knew Klink wouldn't let him. So he settled for casually reading the upside-down reports on Klink's desk. Klink was too busy pacing to notice.

Finally, Major Hochstetter returned. Klink stopped pacing and looked at him expectantly. "He's dead," he said flatly as he marched into the room.

A goofy, relieved grin swallowed Klink's face for a moment, but he quickly wiped it off. Clearing his throat, he tugged his jacket down. "Yes, it is a tragedy," he said solemnly. "He was a fine young man. And a good soldier. I was proud to have him at Stalag 13."

Hochstetter growled. "Touching." His eyes fell on Klink's phone. "Is your phone line secure, Klink?"

Klink puffed out his chest. "Of course, Herr Major! We value security above all else here at Stalag 13. May I remind you that we have never had a single-"

"Klink!" Hochstetter shouted in frustration.

Hogan rolled his eyes. Klink apparently just couldn't help himself- any time was a good time to brag about Stalag 13's record.

"Did you inform General Burkhalter of what happened?" Hochstter asked.

Klink nodded. "Yes. I called him before you." Klink suddenly shrank away. "Not that you weren't my first choice. Of course I would have called you first, but General Burkhalter is my direct superior and I thought he would want to know first. To be honest with you, Major Hochstetter, I flipped a coin because I couldn't possibly decide who I needed to call first and-" Klink cut himself off. "Yes, I informed him, but he is in Berlin and was unable to leave to attend to the situation personally."

"Very well. Get out," Hochstetter ordered.

"Get out?" Klink said dumbly.

"Get out," Hochstetter repeated. "I need to make a call."

"Yes, of course." He started for the door. Hogan hung back and leaned against the filing cabinet as Hochstetter sat behind the desk.

"What are you still doing here?" Hochstetter demanded.

"Oh, me too?" Hogan asked innocently. "I thought you just meant the Kommandant."

"OUT!" Hochstetter screamed.

"Hogan! Out!" Klink echoed, pointing out of the door. Hogan heaved a sigh a shrugged, but followed Klink out. Klink giggled hesitantly as he grabbed the door handle. "If there's anything else you need Major, I would be-"

"Out, Klink, out!" Hochstetter cried, clearly reaching the end of his already short fuse.

"Right away, Major." Klink quickly slammed the door shut. "That man," he said with disdain, "will have a heart attack himself if he is not careful."

"You're assuming he has a heart to begin with," Hogan muttered. Klink apparently heard and snorted.

"A ridiculous assumption, indeed."

Hogan couldn't help but smile. Sometimes Klink wasn't as dumb as he looked. "Well, Kommandant," Hogan said with a little yawn, trying to appear suddenly disinterested, "I think I'll head back to the cooler now and-"

"No, Hogan, wait. That might make Major Hochstetter suspicious. I have no reason to send you to the cooler except for... what happened-" Klink said, suddenly dropping his voice to a whisper.

Hogan shrugged. "Tell him I was caught trying to escape. After all, who wouldn't want to escape with a tyrant like Weiss in camp? I'm surprised you didn't try to escape yourself."

"Hogan, I do not want to give him any reason to suspect foul play!"

"Fine. Then may I go to my barracks?" Hogan asked. He really would love to listen in on whatever phone conversation Hochstetter was having.

"Hogan, you will stay here," Klink ordered firmly.

Hogan held up his hands in surrender and leaned against Hilda's desk. He gave her a quick wink and she blew him a kiss before casting a wary glance at Klink's office. Klink began to pace again, and Hogan watched him even as his mind began to wander. Who was Hochstetter contacting? What was going to happen to Weiss' body? How was he going to find out where these freakish experiments were taking place? And how in the hell was he supposed to stop them before they were perfected and the Nazis created an army of supermen?

If he ever needed a stroke of good luck, now was the time because otherwise he wasn't sure how this was going to work out. He couldn't just sit on his hands and hope that the Nazis kept meeting failure.

As the time stretched on, Hogan became more impatient. He needed to know what was happening. He needed facts to start forming a plan. He needed to talk to his men and get them organized.

"Damn it, Hochstetter, hurry up," Hogan muttered under his breath.

Even though he had no way of hearing him, Hochstetter obliged, opening the door to Klink's office a few minutes later. Klink quickly stopped his pacing and tried to appear casual, failing miserably as he eagerly leaned in towards the Gestapo officer. Hogan didn't move, keeping his bored appearance, only raising an eyebrow at Hochstetter's arrival.

"What is this man _still_ doing here?" Hochstetter asked.

"I was wondering the same thing," Hogan said. "The boys were planning to host a spelling bee later today, and I'm supposed to be the judge. Can't be late for that. Newkirk's been practicing all week, and I think he's finally figured out how to spell chrysanthemum."

"I kept him here," Klink said quickly, shooting Hogan a long-suffering look that seemed to ask him why he couldn't just be serious for once. "In case you had any more questions for him."

"I do not," Hochstetter said through gritted teeth. "Get out."

"Kommandant?" Hogan said, looking to Klink.

"You heard the man, get out, Hogan!" Klink said with a wave of his hand.

"Right away, sir," Hogan said and quickly left. He high-tailed it across the compound and to his barracks. "Olsen?"

"In your office, Colonel," Garlotti reported. "Sitting on the coffeepot like you ordered."

"Good. Keep an eye out, would you? Let me know when Hochstetter leaves."

"Yes sir."

Hogan clapped him on the shoulder before hurrying into his office. Olsen was sitting at his desk, the coffeepot sat in front of him. The red light was on, but the listening device was silent. While the transmitter in Klink's office was pretty good, it wasn't strong enough to pick up anything in the other room. If Hogan wanted to know what Klink and Hochstetter were talking about, he'd have to ply Hilda for information. And, unfortunately, he had nothing but his good looks and charms to tempt her at the moment, so he doubted she would comply. He made a quick mental note to add nylons to their London shopping list.

"What have you got, Olsen?" Hogan asked.

Olsen quickly stood and gestured to the pot. "Major Hochstetter placed a call to a Doctor Pfeiffer."

"That's the clown that brought Weiss in the first place," Hogan said. "Go on."

"Well, Hochstetter said that they knew it was a possibility- I'm assuming he meant the heart attack, or at least Weiss' death in general. Then he said if the Gestapo were in charge of the project, it would be completed by now, and maybe the good doctor just needs a bit more persuasion to get it right. He accused the doctor of sabotaging the project on purpose. And then he said that he would select some men to retrieve the body from Stalag 13 and send it to Pfeiffer in the morning and that Pfeiffer shouldn't waste them. What do you think that means?"

Hogan gripped his elbows and shook his head. "I don't know. But this could just be the chance we need."

"To do what?" Olsen asked.

"To stop Project Stone Breaker before they really do create a Superman."


	15. World Series Play

As soon as Hochstetter left, Hogan went back to Klink's office. He found the Kommandant strutting about like a peacock, polishing and straightening his various knickknacks as he cheerfully hummed to himself. Upon Hogan's arrival, Klink turned and smiled, spreading his arms out wide before clapping his hands and rubbing them together.

"Ah Hogan! Come in, come in!"

"I take it everything went well with Hochstetter?" Hogan asked.

"Oh it could not have gone better!" Klink crowed. "Of course he was angry that Weiss was dead, but he did not blame _me_. Not even a mention of the Russian Front. And soon Corporal Weiss' body will be gone and we can forget this whole thing ever happened! Nothing more than a bad dream. Although I'm sorry you will not be able to host your spelling bee in the rec room until tomorrow."

"That'll give Newkirk more time to perfect chrysanthemum," Hogan said with a shrug. "But speaking of getting everything back to normal, that's why I'm here. Kommandant, I formally request that all the men that were moved be returned to their proper barracks."

Klink suddenly became serious. "Yes, of course." He cleared his throat, looking awkward. "Hogan, I want you to understand that you are a prisoner and we are enemies, but that does not mean I cannot apologize for... well, that is to say, I believe Corporal Weiss crossed a line and..." He squirmed and looked around as if the walls had ears. "Of course, Stalag 13's record is perfect and there was no need for any of the changes he made," he said with more confidence. "And the sooner we get back to normal, the sooner we can continue to be the most efficient, toughest, most secure camp in all of Germany!"

"I'll drink to that, sir!" Hogan replied enthusiastically. Klink dutifully poured him a drink, as well as a small nip for himself. They tapped their glasses together and nodded in a rare moment of camaraderie.

"I'll instruct Schultz to have his guards facilitate the move right away," Klink said after they had finished their drinks. "And I trust your men will not take advantage of the confusion and try to escape?"

"You have my word as an officer, Colonel: no escapes." Hogan paused in the doorway. "Colonel... about Carter?"

Klink heaved a sigh. "He's staying put. I can't say I'm sad about Corporal Weiss, but I also cannot have anarchy here at Stalag 13. And the fact of the matter is that, whatever his motivations, Sergeant Carter attacked a guard. I would suggest that a few days in the cooler is infinitely better than being shot."

"That's fair. I'd better go and tell the boys we're all moving. Thank-you, Kommandant."

Klink nodded and waved him off.

Hogan stepped into the compound, feeling a little lighter. By the end of the day, everyone would be back where they were supposed to be and soon Project Stone Breaker would be nothing but ashes and London would have their hands on all the Nazi research they could want.

Easy. Cake. Pie. Whatever.

It didn't take long for Schultz to mobilize the guards and start the moving process. It was nothing short of chaos until Hogan stepped in and took over. Between him and his men, everyone was soon organized and back in their original barracks. And, true to his word, the count was correct when roll call came around.

Soon afterwards, Hogan and his team were gathered in the tunnels. The men were basking in the feeling of relief that permeated the camp.

"Quick work on getting us all back in place, Colonel," Kinch said.

"Yeah. I hate to say it, but Klink may just have a good side. He was downright eager to get things back to normal. He even apologized... sort of," Hogan added with a shrug.

"Klink? Apologized?" LeBeau snorted in disbelief.

"Stranger things have happened," Kinch said.

"That was awful nice of him," Carter said from his seat at the radio. "After all, it wasn't his fault Weiss was here. Although, I suppose that he could have stopped Weiss from changing everything; he is a colonel after all and Weiss was only a Corporal. Could you imagine if you let Newkirk order you around, sir? Course Newkirk's pretty good at manipula-"

"So that's that then," Newkirk said, interrupting Carter. "Weiss is gone and everything is back to normal. All's well that ends well."

"There's still Operation Stone Breaker," Kinch said. "London wants us to put a stop to it."

"Don't tell me: Stone Breaker is responsible for our brawny friend?" Newkirk groaned.

"Right on the first try," Hogan said.

"And if we don't want any more of those goons popping up, we'd better do something about it," Newkirk continued.

"Correct."

"So what's the plan, Colonel?" Kinch asked.

"Tomorrow morning, Hochstetter is sending a few men to transport Weiss' body back to the doctors Frankenstein," Hogan began.

"So we take their place and go instead?" Newkirk said.

Hogan clicked his tongue. "Batting a thousand today, Newkirk, old boy. Would you like to go for a grand slam?"

"Seems to me, we ought to blow up the ruddy place once we find it," Newkirk drawled.

"But not before you get whatever information you can get your hands on," Kinch added quickly, still mindful of London's disappointment with their last adventure.

"World series play there, boys," Hogan grinned. "That's exactly what we need to do. Carter, I need you to whip up some explosives. Something that we can conceal in our uniforms. And maybe get a few bundles of dynamite together in a footlocker. We can put it in the back of the transport."

"Sure thing, Colonel." Excited, Carter jumped up. Instantly, his face contorted with pain and he fell back into his seat, biting his fist. "Son of a two-headed horny toad," he ground out.

"You all right mate?" Newkirk asked, quickly going to Carter's side.

"Uh, yep, fine," Carter said, though the tightness in his voice very much betrayed his answer. He took a few short breaths then smiled up at Hogan. "I'm okay, sir. Really. And by morning I'll be ready to go out on the mission."

"No dice, Carter. Sorry, but you're sitting this one out."

Carter's face fell. "But, sir, I-" He faltered under Hogan's skeptical look. "The explosives," he said, snapping his fingers. "Real finicky stuff. I better go along just to make sure it's set properly. I promise I'll stay in the truck unless you need me." He looked up at Hogan hopefully, his eyes pleading for him to accept the story. Hogan met his look with a critical gaze. Carter squirmed and looked away. "It's just," he continued in a mumble, "I guess I sort of feel responsible for this whole mess, and I thought maybe I should try to clean it up."

Hogan shook his head. "Nothing you did would've changed what we need to do."

"Sure, but... those explosives," Carter tried again, "they're pretty sensitive..."

"Then desensitize them," Hogan ordered.

Carter's face fell in defeat. "Right. I'll find something stable, sir." And with that, he got up and very deliberately walked away as if trying to prove there was nothing wrong with him- it was a valiant effort, but not very convincing.

Hogan turned his attention to Newkirk. "We'll take Olsen with us. Get some SS uniforms ready." Newkirk nodded and left. "Kinch, once the explosives are ready, take them out to the road so it's ready to go into the truck."

"Right," Kinch said with a nod.

"What about me, mon Colonel? What can I do?" LeBeau asked.

Clapping LeBeau on the shoulder, Hogan steered him towards the ladder. "LeBeau, my good man, you have the most important job."

"Oui? And what is that?"

"You need to make sure we've got a hearty breakfast in the morning; it takes a lot of energy to topple a superman."


	16. Pinch Hitters

The air was decidedly crisp and fresh the next morning when the prisoners fell out for roll call. There had been no sign of the Gestapo yet and Hogan was on edge. Waiting was the hardest part- there was always the thought in the back in his mind that something would throw a wrench in the works before a plan could get off the ground.

"Uniforms ready?" Hogan muttered to Newkirk after Schultz had passed them.

"With plastique explosives in the lining," Newkirk confirmed.

"Dynamite?" Hogan asked Kinch.

Kinch shuffled forward slightly. "In a footlocker next to the road. Checkpoint C."

"Good."

"Fourteen!" Schultz announced when he reached the end of the line, interrupting their discussion. His face suddenly fell and he counted quickly on his fingers. "Fourteen?"

"Carter's in the cooler," Hogan reminded him.

"Ah, yes. Fourteen plus one is fifteen!" Schultz concluded happily.

"Cor, they're wasting your talents here, Schultzie," Newkirk drawled.

"Oh, ho, jolly joker," Schultz bellowed amiably, obviously in too good a mood to let the remark bother him.

With the count completed, Klink came into the compound, his riding crop tucked under his arm. "Report!"

Schultz turned on his heel and saluted. "All present and accounted for," he reported happily. "And all glad to be back with all their friends and in their own beds. Such happy faces."

Olsen, the closest to Schultz, quickly leaned to the side, as if he was afraid Schultz was going to reach over to pinch his cheeks. Honestly, Hogan wouldn't have been surprised.

"As it should be," Klink said with satisfaction. He turned to the prisoners. "Everything is back to normal. _I_ have made Stalag 13 the toughest POW camp in all of Germany, and _I_ will continue to rule this camp exactly the way I always have. No one has ever escaped Stalag 13, and no one ever will!"

His proclamation was met with some obligatory back-talk, but it was very subdued. Everyone infinitely preferred Klink's bragging to Weiss' reign of terror.

"Dismissed!"

Klink turned to head back to his office, but was stopped by the sound of a truck pulling into the compound. "Ah!" he cried in delight. "Hogan, the truck is here. Excellent, excellent."

"The nightmare is coming to an end, sir," Hogan replied.

Klink's face became serious. "A German hero is about to be laid to rest," he said sternly. But he quickly dropped the facade and grinned. "He's no longer my problem! Oh, the moment that truck leaves I think I am going to play my violin; something cheerful, I think. Would you care to join me?"

"Sorry, Kommandant, but the Geneva Convention forbids torturing prisoners."

Klink scowled, but then quickly waved away Hogan's insult. "Not even your terrible jokes can damper my mood, Hogan."

The truck came to a halt and Klink rushed up to it. Hogan kept an eye on the truck and cocked his head towards Kinch. "Take the boys out to the road and stop that truck when it goes by. I'll be right behind you."

"Right. Let's go." Kinch, Newkirk, LeBeau, and Olsen broke from the formation and headed into the barracks.

Over at the truck, Klink pulled open the driver's door. "Welcome, welcome," Klink greeted cheerfully as the driver jumped out of the truck. "You'll find Corporal Weiss in the Rec Hall. Schultz, take the Sergeant here to the Rec Hall and have some men help him load Corporal Weiss into the truck."

"I have my own men," the driver said curtly. He whistled and seven more men piled out of the back of the truck. Eight men total.

And there it was- the wrench in his plans.

What if Pfeiffer was expecting eight men and only half as many arrived? It was too big a discrepancy to overlook.

"Bunch of Aryan poster boys," Goldman muttered.

Hogan caught the remark and quirked an eyebrow before looking back at the men as the filed into the rec hall. It wasn't uncommon for SS to looks like the German ideal, but something suddenly clicked in his head.

 _Don't waste them_. That's what Hochstetter had said to Pfeiffer.

"Aw hell."

The blond brawny men were not just coming to retrieve Weiss' body. Hogan would bet his last dollar that they were a new group of guinea pigs. Which meant Pfeiffer would be expecting similar specimens. Olsen, Newkirk, LeBeau- none of them fit the bill.

"Is everything all right, Colonel?" Private Fuller asked, noticing Hogan's furrowed brow. He and the remaining residents of Barracks Two were still standing in loose formation around him.

"Dandy. Listen, you fellas arm up and go help Kinch and the others stop that truck. It might be a big job for just the four of them to handle." Even with the element of surprise, they were still outnumbered two to one. And then there was the matter of getting the eight of them back to camp. "Tell them I'll meet them down in the tunnels."

"Yes sir," Fuller replied with a salute. He motioned for the group to follow him and the disappeared into the barracks.

Across the compound, Hogan watched the Germans struggle to haul the huge makeshift coffin that held Weiss' body. Eight men and they were all straining under the weight. It still amazed him how large Weiss had been. He couldn't imagine having to go up against an army of those monsters, weak hearts or not.

But Hogan didn't have time to gawk. He needed to find some suitable stand-ins who could distract the scientists long enough for him and the others to scour the place for papers and research unhindered. Then they could pull out and blow the place sky high.

Three perfect candidates were loitering outside Barracks 12. When it became apparent to them that Hogan was indeed headed in their direction, they exchanged confused looks and quickly straightened, offering Hogan a salute.

"At ease. You're Sergeant Klein?" Hogan asked.

"Yes sir. Head of forgery. This is Wagner and Hoffmann-they're part of my team," he said, gesturing to the other two.

"Do you speak German?" They nodded. "Good. I need you on a mission."

"Us, sir?" Wagner asked in surprise.

"Is that a problem, soldier?" Hogan asked. It wasn't often that anyone other than the core group went on missions- especially undercover missions. And when he did need extra hands, he pulled men from Barracks 2.

But everyone at Stalag 13 was a soldier; they could handle themselves if they had good leadership. Hogan would need someone with experience to keep them out of trouble.

"No, sir," Klein said quickly.

"Good. Get down into the tunnels. And get Carter out of the cooler. I'll meet you in the radio room." Sore leg or not, Carter had the looks and experience necessary to lead this group on their mission.

"Yes sir." The men offered him a salute and hurried to Barracks 2.

Hogan watched the SS men pile back into the truck and, after a quick word with Kommandant Klink, pull out of the compound. Hogan frowned. SOP was to not to kill them, but rather bring them down into the tunnels and ship them off to London. But the SS weren't really known for going quietly into the night. Even if they cooperated enough not to get shot, they might put up a ruckus once they came within sight of the fence.

"You," he said, pointing to another prisoner close by. The prisoner looked around to see if there was anyone else around, but then quickly came over. "Lawson?"

"Yes sir," he replied, looking shocked that the colonel actually knew his name.

"It's time for a football game. Make it loud. Give it half an hour and then start a fight. I want the guards across the compound to be watching."

"Yes sir," Lawson paused and frowned. "Cooler time?"

"There's a war going on; we've all got to make sacrifices."

"I've gotta catch up on some sleep anyway, Colonel." Lawson saluted and ran off.

Hogan left them to it and went down into the tunnels. He found Carter there with the three men from Barracks 12.

"What's up, Colonel?" Carter asked eagerly.

"There's been a change of plans," Hogan informed him. "Looks like those goons coming to collect Weiss are supposed to be guinea pigs for Project Stone Breaker. If we show up without new subjects they might just turn us away. And if it gets back to Hochstetter there's a good chance they'll tighten security before we can sneak back in."

"So you need us to take their place?" Carter guessed.

"You've got the right looks," Hogan said.

"Wait, you want us to be guinea pigs for some Nazi experiment?" Klein asked, alarmed.

"Just so we can snoop around without raising the alarms. We could blast our way in, but a project this important is going to have a lot of security, and I'd rather not have every goon in the place looking for us before we can get the information we need. So just play along for a bit until we come for you and then we can blow the place sky high."

"Sounds simple enough, Colonel," Carter said. "Don't worry guys, we'll be all right."

"They won't even have time to give you a physical before we come for you," Hogan assured them. "Just keep your eyes open and gather whatever information you can. We're only going to get one shot at this."


	17. Frankenstein's Castle

"Turn left at this fork, sir," Newkirk said, briefly looking up from his map and nodding his chin at the road.

"Right. How much longer, Newkirk?" Hogan asked as he drove the truck towards its destination. They had been driving on a dirt road nearly an hour through densely wooded terrain with barely a sign of civilization. Wherever this facility was, it was far off the beaten path.

"Shouldn't be more than ten minutes as long as we don't get stopped at another checkpoint," Newkirk replied.

Hogan grunted his acknowledgement, keeping his eyes on the road.

It hadn't taken long for his men to come back with the SS guards. They had apparently not taken too kindly to their abduction and had fought back, before making a break for the woods. A good try, but they were outnumbered and unarmed, and Hogan's men weren't amateurs. Like a pack of highly trained wolves, they hunted down their quarry and subdued them.

The Germans had no idea what their purpose had been outside of delivering Weiss' body and at first Hogan thought he might have miscalculated- perhaps they weren't new test subjects. But it quickly became obvious that their zealotry went far above and beyond even that of the average SS man, making them the perfect candidates. Only those truly devoted to the cause would fall in line after being given the kind of power Project Stone Breaker sought to bestow upon them.

"I've been thinking, Colonel," Newkirk said. "How are we supposed to go sneaking around this place if it's full of blokes like Weiss? They could hear a mouse sneeze. And what if they catch us while we're snooping about? I don't fancy going up against the likes of them, even with a gun."

"Well if they're anything like Weiss, they'll be nothing more than paper tigers as long as we can dodge them for a bit. Besides, we're professional sneaks: we've done all this before."

" _Most_ of us," Newkirk replied. "I don't mind telling you-"

"Of course not," Hogan interrupted.

Unperturbed, Newkirk continued, "I don't mind telling you I don't like the idea of taking those three along with us. They're brilliant forgers, no doubt, but they've never done undercover work. And that Hoffmann is barely old enough to shave."

"We didn't have much choice," Hogan explained. "No one in our barracks fits the bill. Even Carter's a stretch." He hoped Carter passed muster, otherwise the three forgers would be on their own. But either way, Hogan was confident he could get back to them before the doctors even had a chance to say 'turn your head and cough'.

"I think that's it," Newkirk said, pointing ahead.

Hogan half expected a castle high on a hill, with lightning streaking across the sky and a few bats flying around for good measure. Instead he saw a rather ordinary military compound: a few drab buildings surrounded by barbed wire and chain link fences. Well, he supposed conducting this experiment in Frankenstein's castle would be a little too on the nose.

Hogan stopped at the gate, and was relieved to find that the two guards stationed there were just ordinary men. Easy enough to take care of on their way out.

"Papers," one guard said as he approached Hogan's door. Hogan fished the papers from his jacket and handed them over. The guard inspected them and then nodded to his companion before handing them back. "Drive to the building there," he said, pointing to the two-storey building at the other end of the compound.

"Danke," Hogan said with a nod. "Heil Hitler."

"Heil Hitler," the guard replied before making his way back to his shack. The barrier arm lifted, granting them passage, and Hogan drove through until he arrived at the building. A detail of half a dozen armed Germans were waiting for them. One motioned for him to cut the engine and get out.

"Ready?" Hogan asked Newkirk. Newkirk tightened his jaw and nodded. Though none of them would ever admit it, there was always a feeling of terror lurking in the back of their minds whenever they went into the belly of the beast like this. A healthy dose of fear kept them alive, but it also threatened to paralyze them, so it was best to just push it back as far as they could and try to ignore it.

Hogan and Newkirk climbed out of the cab. Hogan offered a salute to the German lieutenant there to greet them. The lieutenant regarded them for a moment, looking them up and down with a hint of incredulity.

"There should be eight of you," the lieutenant said.

"They're in the back, awaiting orders, Herr Lieutenant," Hogan explained.

The lieutenant snapped his fingers and motioned towards the truck. One of his men scrambled to the back of the truck. "Raus, raus, out of the truck," he ordered, motioning with his submachine gun. The others piled out of the back and joined Hogan and Newkirk. The lieutenant inspected them quickly.

"Wait here," he ordered. He nodded to his men, who stepped forward as a group. They gripped their guns a little tighter, but didn't lift them. The lieutenant disappeared into the building. He returned a few minutes later with Doctor Pfeiffer and Doctor Lehmann. They stopped short upon seeing Hogan and his group.

Pfeiffer pursed his lips. "Is this Hochstetter's idea of a joke?" he asked. He marched up to Hogan and looked him up and down. "Unsuitable. Entirely unsuitable." He looked over at LeBeau. "A mockery!"

Hogan felt more than saw LeBeau tense. But he knew the corporal had enough sense to quell his indignation. At least for now. No doubt they wouldn't hear the end of it once they were safely back at camp.

"Doctor Pfeiffer, I fear we may not be in a position to reject them," Lehmann said warily. "Time is quickly running out and the field marshal-"

Pfeiffer raised his hand and clenched it into a fist, cutting Lehmann off. "I will not muddy our experiment with inferior inputs."

Hogan was half-tempted to shoot the arrogant son of a bitch right then and there. But they needed access to the building, so he put his pride on the shelf.

"Then we will have to do what we can with these four," Lehmann sighed.

Pfeiffer cast a critical eye on Carter and his group. "Yes. They will do."

"Very good. You four," Lehmann said, pointing to Carter, Wagner, Hoffmann and Klein, "follow us please." Lehmann's request sounded cordial, but it was anything but as three of the armed guards came in behind them and encouraged them forward with their guns. Carter cast a wary glance at Hogan who gave the slightest nod.

"Herr Doctor, if you have no need for us," Hogan ventured, "we will unload the body and be on our way."

Pfeiffer paused in the doorway and looked back with disdain. "That won't be necessary," he said. "Lieutenant Vogler, please escort these men to the mess hall. Make sure they are taken care of." And with that, he went inside.

"Jawohl, Herr Doctor. All right, follow me." Lieutenant Vogler beckoned Hogan to follow him. The last two guards brought up the rear, keeping half a step behind Hogan and his men.

Hogan shared a look with Newkirk. They weren't heading for the mess hall. Pfeiffer's not-so-subtle tone made that infinitely clear. But they were too exposed here to act.

They followed Vogel around the compound to a deserted spot behind all the buildings- a lonesome patch of ground with several mounds of freshly turned dirt. No doubt this was where they buried the bodies of their failed experiments. Or unwanted "inputs" who couldn't be trusted not to speak about the existence and location of this particular facility.

"Before we eat, we must prepare a grave for the body," Vogler said. "There are shovels in there," he said, pointing to the tool shed.

"Sorry, but I've got a bad back," Hogan said. Then, without warning, he threw his elbow back, right into one of the guards' face. LeBeau and Newkirk were on the other in a flash while Olsen surged forward and tackled Vogler. Surprised by the sudden attack, the Germans barely reacted before they were subdued. A vicious pistol whip or two to the back of the head ensured that they would remain quiet until Hogan and his team could complete their mission. They quickly dragged the Germans behind the tool shed, out of sight from anyone who might happen to pass by.

"They'll be expecting gunshots," Olsen pointed out.

"Not right away. We're supposed to be digging our own graves, remember?" Hogan replied.

"That's kind of twisted," Olsen said with a frown.

"But par for the course for these rotters," Newkirk said sourly.

"Barbarians," LeBeau spat.

"All right, gentlemen," Hogan said, interrupting them, "we have to be in and out as quick as we can. Set your watches. 11-50 on my mark." Hogan held up a finger as he looked at his watch. The others prepared their watches. "And… now. Okay, set the timer on the explosives to go off at 12-35. We'll meet back at the truck at 12-30." They nodded. "Olsen, LeBeau, get the dynamite out of the truck and rig the main building to blow, then go and collect Carter and the others. Snag the doctors, too, if you can. Newkirk, you're with me."

"And if we get held up inside?" Newkirk asked warily. Hogan reached down and grabbed one of the guards' submachine guns.

"Easy. We'll improvise."


	18. Bingpot!

Hogan, Newkirk, LeBeau and Olsen loitered behind a nearby building, waiting for the group of SS men to unload Weiss' body from the truck. They had an extra wide gurney waiting, but it proved too small for the hulking man, making it extremely awkward to get inside.

The coast now clear, Hogan waited a beat before stepping out. Without a word, Olsen and LeBeau jumped into the truck cab and started the engine. Meanwhile, Hogan and Newkirk slipped into the building.

They found themselves in a small lobby. The smell of antiseptic clung to the air, so strong that it was almost overwhelming. The lighting was bright, but cold, and it was silent as a tomb. The only colour in this world of white was the red from the Nazi flag draped on the wall. Ahead lay a hallway lined with office doors, and to the left a small door labelled stairs. To their right was a set of white swing doors with large windows, through which they could see the team of Nazis wheeling Weiss down a hall.

Hogan didn't like operating in such bright conditions. There weren't any obvious hiding spots, and there was no telling who, or what was behind any of the doors. Finding the information they needed wouldn't be easy without knowing where to look. It would take a bit of luck.

But, so far, luck seemed to be on their side. There was no one around, except on the other side of the swing doors, and they were too preoccupied to notice him and Newkirk.

Resisting the urge to sneak, Hogan stood straight and strode to the door leading to the stairwell. A set of stairs went up and another went down. Hogan opted for the basement first and descended the stairs, Newkirk keeping pace behind him. At the bottom landing was another door.

"And so I told her," Hogan said in a conversational tone as he opened the door, "that if you think Göring is fat*, wait until-" Hogan cut himself off when they were met with an empty hallway.

"Everyone's gone for lunch," Newkirk observed lightly.

"Yeah, maybe." They slipped into the hallway. Hogan went to the first door he found and turned the handle. A broom fell out and nearly hit him, but he caught it and shoved it back into the closet.

"Should we send that broom off to London?" Newkirk asked.

"Funny."

"Well what are we looking for and are we going to find it?"

"Files, papers, anything labelled Stone Breaker." Hogan tried another door. A bathroom.

The next door was locked. That was promising. He pressed his ear to the door to try and pick up any sounds. Nothing. "Got your tool kit?"

"Never leave home without it." Newkirk fished his lock pick from his breast pocket and set to work. Hogan leaned up against the wall beside him to shield him just in case anyone decided to show up. "Piece of cake, really," Newkirk said after a moment. "It's almost embarrassing." He stood up and gingerly opened the door.

The room was dark and Hogan felt the wall until he found the light switch. "Bingo." The room was full of filing cabinets with a lone desk in the corner. Closing the door behind them, they entered the room and went to work. The cabinets were locked, but they were no match for Newkirk who deftly cracked them open.

"Got anything?" Hogan asked as he quickly leafed through the file folders looking for anything that hinted at a connection to Stone Breaker. So far, he was coming up empty.

"Not here," Newkirk informed him. He abandoned his cabinet and moved to another. "Here. Stone Breaker." Newkirk pulled open another draw. "And here." He pulled out a stack of folders and dropped them onto the desk. Hogan grabbed another bunch.

"Take pictures of everything," he ordered, taking a brief moment to look at his watch.

"Right."

Hogan pulled out a small spy camera and flipped open one of the files labelled _Stone Breaker Series A-1_. He took pictures as fast as he could, turning page after page, not bothering to read them. He stopped dead though when he turned over a photo.

"Oh shit."

It was obvious from the photo and the ones following it that Series A-1 had been their first set of human trials and had resulted in disaster. Generally, Hogan lacked any sympathy for Nazis, but it was nearly impossible to look at the pictures and not be horrified by the ordeal these men must have gone through. Their grotesque bodies looked like they were simultaneously melting and on the verge of exploding. More photos documented their autopsies.

"Bloody hell."

Hogan looked to see Newkirk holding up a picture to show him. Hogan flinched and instinctually darted his gaze. "What series is that?" Hogan asked.

"C-3," Newkirk replied. "Dated March this year."

Hogan checked the date on his. December, 1942. "They're not wasting time before they move onto the next series," he observed. He wondered what differentiated Series A from C, but it wasn't his job to find out. His job was to get pictures so the big heads in London could decipher what it all meant as they tried to reconstruct it. Hopefully, they would skip past the obvious failures.

"We don't have time to go through it all," Hogan said, again looking at his watch. "Find the latest series."

"Let's see. Series I-5." Newkirk slid the file over to Hogan before going back to the file cabinet to look for more.

Hogan flipped open the folder and leafed through the pages until he found a photo. "Hey. It's Weiss." Sure enough, it was their favourite new guard in all his gargantuan glory. Another photo showed a rather small man standing next to a ruler with his height marked on it. It must have been Weiss before his transformation. The contrast was stunning. No doubt it would soon be updated with the results of Weiss' autopsy. That is, if Hogan wasn't about to burn the whole place to the ground.

"There's Series J-1 and K-1 in here," Newkirk reported. He brought the files over and flipped through them. "No photos," he said. "Just pages of chemical formulas and notes." He snapped a picture of each page.

"Must be their newest concoctions they haven't had a chance to test out yet. All right, I think we have enough. Let's rig this place to blow."

Taking out a pocket knife, Hogan cut into his uniform, pulling out a long roll of plastic explosive. He balled a little up and stuck it to the side of a cabinet.

Together, he and Newkirk placed the rest of his supply throughout the room. "Timer is set," Newkirk said after a few minutes.

"Good. Let's find Carter just in case LeBeau and Olsen haven't gotten to him yet."

"There's two more floors to search," Newkirk pointed out.

"Then we better be quick."

"Right." The left the room and hurried down the hall. They slowed their pace before peering around the corner. Standing outside a door was a guard. That was interesting. Just what was in there?

Hogan and Newkirk backed up a few paces before walking around the corner. "So I told her that if she thinks Göring is fat," Hogan said, diving back into his fake conversation, "she should see my mother!"

He and Newkirk shared a laugh as they approached the guard. Hogan nodded to him as he walked past, a gesture that he returned. Newkirk hung back, so that he and Hogan were on either side of him. Suddenly, they each grabbed an arm and drove him right into the opposite wall. Hogan grabbed his head and smacked it against the wall a few times for good measure until the guard went limp.

They braced themselves for a reaction to the noise, but none was forthcoming. So they pushed the guard out of sight of the door and tried to open it. Locked again. Newkirk went to work and soon had it opened. Once again, the room was empty, but brightly lit.

"Take him to the broom closet," Hogan ordered before he went inside.

There were several workbenches covered in beakers, test tubes, Bunsen burners and the like. Very interesting. Of course, he had no idea what any of the chemicals were, but the room was worth investigating. He began rummaging through cupboards, looking for anything of value. "Jackpot." In one cupboard he found a series of thin cardboard boxes, stamped with Project Stone Breaker. He cracked open a box labelled I-5 and found several large vials. He grabbed one and put it in his pocket before reaching for the boxes marked J and K. Four vials were missing from each box, and Hogan could only assume they were intended for the eight new volunteers that were supposed to arrive. Hogan grabbed one of each.

The sound of the door opening made Hogan jump up and whirl around. He was relieved to find it was only Newkirk.

"Guard's squared away," he reported.

"Good. This room's going up too." They set the explosives Newkirk was carrying around the room and set the timer. "All right, let's go find Carter."

They rushed back into the hall and briskly walked through it and around the corner, hoping to find some sign of the others. But the next hall was empty, as was the next, and the few doors they tested were unlocked and shielded nothing interesting.

Suddenly, the lights flickered and then nearly went out completely. A low rumble rolled through the air, causing the light fixtures to shake above them. But that noise was soon drowned out by something else entirely. Something that made Hogan's skin crawl and his hair stand on end.

Someone was screaming.

* * *

*While the German people wouldn't dare to speak ill of Hitler, it was actually socially acceptable to make fun of Göring (within reason).


	19. Stalling for Time

Carter cast a wary glance at Hogan before following Lehmann into the building. He didn't know what awaited them inside, but whatever it was, the gun aimed at his back meant he would have little choice but to go along with it. And while he had no doubt that the colonel would get to them before they even got through a physical examination, the very idea of being used as a guinea pig for any experiment didn't sit well with him.

But it was too late for second guessing himself; that train had left the station hours ago. He had volunteered to come along- heck, he had practically begged Colonel Hogan to include him- so he had to make the best of the situation. Leadership wasn't his strong suit, but he was sure he could keep the three men with him safe long enough for the colonel and the others to get the information they needed.

Of course, if it turned to fisticuffs, he wasn't sure he would be much use. His leg ached with a pain that seemed to shoot up all the way to his teeth. Every step was some new kind of torture and it was getting harder and harder to hide it.

This had definitely been a bad idea.

"What's the matter with you?" Pfeiffer asked peevishly from behind him.

Carter stopped. "Me, Herr Doctor?"

"Why are you limping?" the doctor demanded.

"I hurt my leg. Playing soccer," Carter explained quickly. "We have a game every week, the SS and the troops stationed around Hammelburg. It can become very bloody sometimes. But of course when Major Hochstetter said he needed volunteers to serve the fuehrer for a special mission, I could not let a little thing like this stop me!" Carter puffed out his chest and stood as tall as he could, easily slipping into the role of a proud member of the SS.

Pfeiffer frowned and sized him up. Then he shook his head and moved past him to join Lehmann at the head of the group. He said something to the other doctor that sounded like nonsense, and it took a moment for Carter to realize that he was actually speaking English- perhaps in an attempt to speak freely around his fellow Germans. Carter internally groaned. Now he would have to consciously remind himself that he needed to speak German and not let the doctor's use of English make him forget where he was and who he was supposed to be.

"I will have to speak to Hochstetter when this is all over if this is his idea of suitable candidates," he muttered.

"We don't have time to be picky," Lehmann replied testily. "We should have used the others."

"I will not compromise the integrity of-"

"Yes, I know," Lehmann interrupted as if he had heard it a thousand times before. "Well you have your perfect specimens now- an injury like that is inconsequential."

Carter frowned. It sure didn't feel inconsequential. In fact, he was breaking out in a sweat trying to keep up. He paled considerably when Lehmann opened a door that led to a staircase.

Well, he supposed they needed to stall for time anyway. It would probably take an hour just to get halfway up.

Tentatively, Carter started up the steps, leaning heavily on the railing for support. Ahead of him Lehmann and Pfeiffer were still talking and he struggled to split his attention between eavesdropping on them and keeping himself from throwing up as he lumbered up each step.

"We don't have time to wait for more volunteers anyway," Lehmann continued. "The Field Marshall is ready to stop our project all together. We will be lucky to get out of this with our lives."

"Short-sighted fool. Science is not a magic rabbit that can be pulled out of a hat; it takes time!" Pfeiffer lamented.

"I suppose this calls for drastic measures," Lehmann said.

"Drastic measures?" Pfeiffer repeated.

"We need results, or we face a firing squad. Or the Russian Front. Or both. Worse, all our hard work will be destroyed if we don't come up with some tangible results.

"We'll run series J and K. I had the serums brought up this morning. And we'll double the dose of radiation."

That made Carter stop dead in his tracks. Radiation? What kind of radiation? He doubted the doctors had a simple x-ray in mind. He didn't know a lot about radiation- it was somewhat outside his wheelhouse- but he knew enough to be wary of it.

Lehmann and Pfeiffer paused and looked back at him and Carter quickly reached down to rub his leg and hiss. "Perhaps we can slow down?" he suggested, remembering to speak in German. "My leg is very sore."

He kept his eyes firmly on his leg, willing the doctors to ignore the timing of his sudden stop. He heard Pfeiffer sigh in frustration. "Meet us in the lab. And be as quick as you can."

Carter sighed with relief when the doctors continued on their way. "Help him," one of the guards ordered Klein and Wagner. They each put one of Carter's arms over their shoulders and began slowly up the stairs.

"Hurry up," one of the guards ordered.

"He's heavy?" Wagner said hesitantly, looking to Carter for direction. He didn't seem too eager to face whatever was waiting for them in that lab.

"I'm afraid we're all a little banged up from the soccer match," Carter explained apologetically. "Perhaps you can help me?"

The guards looked between each other, doubtful, especially considering that Klein was fairly muscular, but in short order, two of them shouldered their rifles and pushed Klein and Wagner aside. They roughly grabbed Carter's arms and lifted him between them.

Carter chewed his lip and managed to cast a quick glance to his watch. There was a perfectly good opportunity right now to overpower the guards and make their escape. Indeed, Klein, Wagner and Hoffmann looked ready to pounce. But, it was no good. As much as they had tried to stall, the colonel would still need more time to find the information they were looking for. He couldn't risk anyone sounding the alarm. And yet, he also couldn't risk being exposed to whatever bizarre science project these doctors had cooked for them.

It was up to him to make a decision. His own inadequacy as a leader, as a decision-maker, was front and center in his mind. He wished that the colonel was here. Or Kinch, or Newkirk. Or even LeBeau. Or that he could transfer command to Sergeant Klein. But it was no good. For better or worse, he was in charge and the decision was his alone to make.

The last time he had to make a split second decision like this, however, one man ended up dead, and he was left with an injured leg. He couldn't afford to act brashly now. Once again he found himself regretting ever volunteering for this mission and getting himself into this position. But what was done was done. He had to focus on the present and the decision before him and there was no time to weigh the pros and cons.

Catching Klein's eye, he shook his head ever so slightly. They just had to play along for now and hope that the colonel would be true to his word and get them out of there before things went sideways. Klein and the others relaxed ever so slightly, although they were still on edge as they continued up the steps.

At the top of the stairs, one of the guards dropped Carter's arm and opened the door leading to a hallway. Two more guards appeared and fell in behind them as they started down the hall. One opened a door and ushered them inside a room.

The room was brightly lit and Carter could have sworn he smelled death lurking under the antiseptic that clung to the air. A set of vials sat on a nearby countertop, next to a row of chairs. One side of the room was hidden behind a white cloth partition panel. Against one wall here was a panel of blinking red buttons next to a heavy metal door with a big spoke safe lock on it. A skull and cross bones was stencilled on the door. Carter definitely didn't want to see what was on the other side.

Pfeiffer was in the middle of saying something to Lehmann but when they entered, he stopped and huffed in frustration. "Finally," he said, before turning back to his companion. "I do not think-"

"The elements are pure, Pfeiffer," Lehmann said. "Surely we can experiment more with the method if it means saving our necks!"

"But the validity-"

"Desperate times, my friend," Lehmann said. Then he turned his attention to his four volunteers. "Please, take off your coats and sit," he said, gesturing to the chairs.

Carter furrowed his brow. With five guards in the room, they were now outnumbered. Any chance they had to escape on their own was vanishingly small. He had a feeling that he had made the wrong decision in the stairwell.

They weren't given the chance to hesitate as the guards moved closer and herded them into their seats.

"I'm afraid," Carter said as he very slowly peeled off his coat, "that Major Hochstetter was short on the particulars of this assignment. Perhaps you can walk us through what you are intending to have us do?"

"Roll up your sleeve please," Lehmann said as he filled a syringe, ignoring the question. "Either arm is fine. Your choice." His friendly tone was so out of place in this situation that it was downright creepy.

Pfeiffer was more forthcoming with answers. "You are to be part of a new generation of the fuehrer's army," he explained. "Our experiment is designed to make you faster, stronger, smarter. You will be the elite of the elite and you will use your new skills to secure victory for the fatherland."

"The SS is already the elite of the elite," Carter said proudly. He might not have been a good leader, but he was a good actor and it wasn't hard to play the part of an arrogant SS soldier.

"But this will make you even better," Lehmann said.

"We already are the master race! The fuehrer has said so! Who are you to question him?" Carter exclaimed. He stood up and crossed his arms stubbornly. "This is treason!"

From the corner of his eye he saw Lehmann heave a sigh and look heavenwards. But Pfeiffer was a little more sympathetic. "Of course, of course," he said. "Aryans are far superior to all other men. They're prefect men. But still men. Men trapped within the limitations of humanity. But here," he spread out his arms proudly, "here we will create gods. Gods that will bring order to chaos and ensure the Third Reich will last for a millennium."

"Gods like the dead body we drove in today?" Carter scoffed skeptically.

"An unfortunate casualty on the road to success," Pfeiffer said solemnly.

"And if we refuse to become casualties as well?"

" _That_ is treason," Pfeiffer replied. "It is an honour to die for the fatherland. It is your duty to die for Hitler."

"Yes, yes, honour, duty," Lehmann interrupted dismissively, "but more importantly, you do not have a choice." He motioned to the guards. "Now, please sit and roll up your sleeve. You need a dose of vitamins."

Carter looked from Lehmann to the guards, then to his fellow prisoners who were watching him intently. Carter struggled to find something else to say to stall, but didn't come up with anything before he was roughly shoved into his seat.

"You can roll up your sleeves yourself, or we can help," Lehmann said cheerfully.

Carter tried not to scowl as he rolled up his sleeve. Well, he supposed a few vitamins wouldn't hurt.

Lehmann came up to him and swabbed his arm with some alcohol while beside him, Pfeiffer did the same to Hoffmann. Then, the doctor jabbed him with a needle.

It should not have shocked him the Lehmann lied. Whatever was in that syringe was definitely not vitamins. The liquid felt like fire in his veins. It burned through his body until it grabbed hold of his heart and squeezed it tightly. Carter gasped, desperately trying to suck in a breath, but his lungs wouldn't cooperate.

"Him first," he heard Lehmann say. One of the guards grabbed Hoffmann and pulled him onto his feet.

"Wait," Carter gasped. He tried to get up, only to be held down by a heavy hand.

Helplessly he watched as the steel door was opened. There was another heavy door behind that. Hoffmann was quickly pushed in and both were shut and locked.

Carter's heart bucked in his chest as Lehmann went to a panel on the wall and pressed a few buttons before flipping a heavy switch.

A high pitch whine emanated from behind the doors, but it quickly fell silent only to be replaced by a series of thumps. Suddenly the lights dimmed drastically and the room rumbled and shook. Anticipation hung in the air between the scientists and guards. And then, from behind the two heavy doors, Carter heard screaming. It didn't seem possible for it to be so loud and intense and still be human. But it grew louder and louder as the lights flickered and the room shook.

Panic enveloped him. This was not how this was supposed to have gone. They were supposed to get a physical. Hogan was supposed to save them before anything happened. Carter was supposed to keep Klein, Wagner and Hoffmann safe. He had failed. This was a disaster.

Well, damn the consequences now. He had to do something. He had to save Hoffmann and he had to keep himself and the others from being next.

Without another thought he kicked the guard in front of him in the groin. The guard doubled over in pain and surprise and Carter jumped up and slammed his elbow down into his back. Adrenaline numbed the protest from his leg enough that he didn't automatically keel over though he stumbled a bit after the guard dropped.

Klein and Wagner had also sprung into action, whether as a reaction to Hoffmann's scream or Carter's lead, he didn't know. Klein quickly subdued one guard, but Wagner was struggling with another. The other two guards raced forward, and grabbed Klein. The sergeant fought back with all his might, and managed to free himself. Carter took it as a good sign that neither of the guards reached for their weapons. They were there to intimidate and subdue, not to kill. After all, they needed their guinea pigs to stay alive.

Instead of going after a guard to help Klein, Carter turned his attention to easier targets- the doctors. Maybe if he could get one of them, he could use him as a hostage and get the others out of there. Decision made, he charged at Lehmann and tackled him to the ground. He quickly got to his feet and whirled around to go after Pfeiffer.

The doctor jumped in surprise and scrambled to grab the only weapon available to him- a syringe. With surprising speed, Pfeiffer lunged at him, jamming the needle into Carter's shoulder before he could block. Once again, fire coursed through his veins. Carter gasped and stumbled back, grabbing at his chest as it tightened. Any fight left him when Pfeiffer kicked him in the shin. No amount of adrenaline could stave off the pain anymore. Stars filled his vision and he dropped to the ground in a heap, curling into a ball as pain tore up his insides.

The crack of a gun broke through the fog of pain.

The colonel. Finally.

"Enough of this," he heard Lehmann say. Carter blinked and through bleary eyes saw Klein on the floor, holding his bloody shoulder and cursing through gritted teeth. He was hurt. But how? Where was the colonel? Who had fired the gun? Carter's thoughts scattered and he couldn't quite piece anything together.

The guards, one with a severely bloodied nose, grabbed Klein and Wagner and threw them back into their chairs, training their guns on them. By now, the lights had come back on and Carter heard Pfeiffer order another guard to get Hoffmann. Carter struggled to lift his head and saw Hoffmann being pulled out of the chamber and dragged behind the partition.

"Honestly, such behaviour," Lehmann huffed.

"I never seen such squeamish SS men. You were worse than our volunteers from the Kriegsmarine," Pfeiffer said, sounding more amused than annoyed.

"We never had such trouble before," Lehmann sighed. "I think you're right Pfeiffer- we really do need to have a chat with Hochstetter if these are his volunteers. No matter. When we're done you'll all thank us. Now, be good boys and cooperate."

The guards hauled Carter to his feet. He tried to get his bearings to fight back or run or cry out or _something_ , but couldn't quite seem to get his brain together enough to act.

A moment later, he was thrown against a wall. He slid to the floor as the heavy metal door shut behind him. The room was dim and small, so that he couldn't stretch out on the floor. The walls and inside of the door were rippled, grey, and, when he pressed against it, it felt somewhat foamy. The floor and ceiling seemed to be made of black glass.

Carter struggled to his feet and tried to push against the door, but it was no use. "Let me out! Let me out!" Terror swept through him. He started pounding his fists on the walls. "C'mon, Colonel, c'mon! Newkirk? LeBeau? Olsen?! Someone! Get me out of here!"

Carter stopped cold when that high pitch whine started. Then, with renewed panic, he began throwing his shoulder into the door. He had to get out of this chamber.

The whine stopped, replaced by heavy thumps behind the walls, and the floor started to shake beneath him. Another muffled noise filtered in through the heavy doors. Carter thought it almost sounded like gunfire, but he couldn't be sure. And, besides, he had bigger problems right now.

Abruptly, the room filled with light. Excruciatingly bright and hot, it surrounded him, shot through him, and seemed to tear him apart. It assaulted every cell in his body, simultaneously tearing them apart and smashing them together. Dropping to his knees and folding into himself, Carter pressed his hands to his ears, trying to keep his head from exploding. Something bubbled up within him and threatened to spill out in a primal scream but before it could, suddenly, everything stopped. The light died and he was left in darkness.

A clang and a clunk announced the door opening. A silhouette appeared in the doorway and moved towards him right before he fainted.


	20. Stone Broken

"Where's it coming from?!" Newkirk cried as he and Colonel Hogan burst onto the main floor. The scream was everywhere and nowhere. It filled every nook and cranny and echoed through every hall.

Hogan whirled around, trying to pinpoint the sound. Some awful instinct inside him said it was coming from one of his men. With no clear source, he raced into the hall and began kicking down doors. This was no time to be subtle. He needed to find his men and get them out of here.

The first room was empty, but in the second, he found three men in lab coats sitting at a table apparently in the midst of a coffee klatch. His sudden entrance caused them to jump in surprise and look at him quizzically.

"Where is that noise coming from?" Hogan demanded.

The men shared a look and one snorted in amusement. "New here?"

Their flippant nature made his blood turn cold. He didn't understand how anyone could get use to that scream which, even now, was still as intense and tortured as it had been when it started. These men, however, seemed content to have their little tête-à-tête as if nothing were happening. Thinking back to the thick stack of files they had rifled through, Hogan guessed that after the first hundred victims, it must have just become white noise to them. It sickened and infuriated him.

Newkirk felt the same way. The corporal growled and took a step forward, levelling his gun at the Germans. But Hogan held out his arm and stopped him from getting any closer. As satisfying as it might have been, they didn't have time to deal with these monsters. They needed to find Carter and get out of there.

Finally, the screamed started to wane. And then a gunshot rang out. Hogan's heart stopped. The shot filled him with dread but at the same time, it gave him much needed direction. It very clearly came from upstairs.

"What was that?" one of the scientists asked, looking up at the ceiling.

"Let's go," Hogan ordered Newkirk leaving the bewildered scientists to assume that they were on the case. Together they raced through the hall to the stairs. They flew up the steps two at a time and burst onto the top floor.

"Gotta be there, Colonel," Newkirk said, pointing to a lone door at the end of the hall.

"All right, look," Hogan said, bringing Newkirk to a momentary halt, "I don't know what we're going to find in there, but our objective is to get Carter and the others out and bring them home." Whether they were alive or not. Hogan honestly didn't think anyone could have survived whatever torture had produced that sound- that scream he knew would haunt his memory forever.

Newkirk nodded, his jaw tight with determination. Then, just as before, the lights flickered and dimmed and the floor started to shake.

Without a moment to lose, Hogan and Newkirk sprinted to the door and kicked it down.

"What is-"

Doctor Pfeiffer didn't have a chance to finish his sentence before Hogan shot him. Through the dim light, they picked out their targets and dropped them with practiced precision. Soon all the guards were down, leaving only Doctor Lehmann standing.

"Wait," Lehmann said, throwing up his hands and looking confused. "Wait, don't shoot."

Hogan lowered his weapon slightly and Lehmann let out a sigh of relief. He was lucky- very lucky that they needed him alive to send off to London.

But then, without ceremony or any trace of sympathy, Newkirk fired off a shot, hitting the doctor in the head.

"Newkirk! What-"

"Hang London," Newkirk said coldly.

Hogan frowned, but couldn't exactly disagree with the sentiment. London had wanted a scientist, but with their photos and the vials he had swiped, they had more than enough information on Stone Breaker. No need to let monsters like Pfeiffer and Lehmann draw even one more breath.

Hogan turned his attention to Klein and Wagner who were seated nearby looking stunned. Klein was holding his shoulder as blood dripped between his fingers. Hogan was about to ask where Hoffmann and Carter were when, without a word, Wagner jumped to his feet. He hurried to a panel of blinking buttons on the wall, hesitated, then flipped off a large switch.

"Sarge! Sarge!" he cried as he turned the lock on a big metal door.

Instantly Hogan joined him. As soon as it opened he rushed inside and opened the second door behind it. Behind that, in a tiny room, he found Carter huddled on the floor, shaking and gasping. Carter looked up and looked relieved before going limp.

Hogan swore and knelt down beside him, checking for a pulse. Relief flooded over him when he found it without trouble. He quickly gathered Carter into his arms and hurried out of the chamber.

"Colonel, over here," Newkirk called from behind a cloth partition on the other side of the room. Hogan went as fast as he could to meet him. Behind the divider, he found Newkirk and Wagner hovering over Hoffmann who was curled up on a bed, trembling uncontrollably.

"He's burning up," Wagner said as he laid a hand on Hoffmann's arm to try to stop the shaking.

"All right, take him and-"

A burst of rapid gunfire from somewhere below cut him off.

"What was that?" Wagner asked.

"Don't know," Hogan said. Of course, he knew it was gunfire, but who was causing it and why? With a grunt, he moved Carter over his shoulder and brought his gun up, steadying it against his hip. "Wagner, you hurt?" Wagner shook his head. "Good, grab Hoffmann. We're getting out of here. Newkirk, take point."

Newkirk nodded and led them back into the main room. Sergeant Klein was already armed and waiting by the door, ignoring his injured shoulder even as blood stained his sleeve. He looked ready for revenge. Newkirk motioned for him to follow him into the hall. "Clear!"

Wagner and Hogan, weighed down by the loads, joined them. More gunfire chattered from the stairwell and Newkirk waved them back into the relative safety of the lab. A moment later, the door to the stairs burst open. Newkirk raised his gun but quickly lowered it.

"Olsen!" he exclaimed in relief. He gestured for Wagner and Hogan to join them again. "What's going on?"

"A few goons wanted to investigate the gunfire. I persuaded them otherwise," Olsen explained quickly. "Now come on- LeBeau's waiting with the truck."

The group hustled down the stairs, picking their way past a slew of bodies that littered the steps, with Olsen and Newkirk leading the way while Klein covered their rear. Out in the compound, LeBeau was indeed waiting with the truck.

"Newkirk, drive," Hogan ordered. Newkirk nodded and sprinted to the cab. The others piled into the back while LeBeau covered them. Once they were in, Hogan banged on the cab and a moment later the truck pulled forward. Hogan, Olsen and Klein crowded near the back, ready to ward off any resistance. Wagner hovered over Carter and Hoffmann, babbling reassurances to their prone figures.

Hogan checked his watch. At least something was going right; their timing was impeccable. In five minutes, this place would blow sky high, putting a permanent end to the twisted experiment it facilitated.

Olsen, always quickest on the draw, suddenly fired off a volley of bullets at a group of Germans who were scrambling into the compound. From up front in the cab was another burst of gunfire then, a moment later, the truck crashed through the front gates.

The truck sped down the gravel road, kicking up dust behind it. It wasn't long before they heard a terrific explosion. Through the trees and dust, they saw a fireball shoot up into the sky.

They weren't out of the woods yet, but at least they had- mostly- accomplished their mission. The Nazis wouldn't be making super men any time soon; Stone Breaker had been reduced to rubble.

But at what cost?


	21. A Matter of Trust

"What happened?"

Kinch was waiting for them, as usual. When they came into view, carrying Carter and Hoffmann, he immediately jumped from his desk and ran over to meet them.

"Go get Wilson," Hogan ordered. "No, wait. LeBeau, you go get Wilson." The Frenchman had staved off his instinct to faint at the sight of Klein's bloody shoulder until they got home. Now that they were safely in the tunnels he was looking decidedly pale.

LeBeau hesitated, wavering between his desire to get Wilson and follow Wagner and Olsen into the room where they were taking Carter and Hoffmann. But there was nothing he could do for them now, so he hurried off to find the medic.

"What happened?!" Kinch repeated urgently.

Hogan shook his head. "Things went sideways," he said. It was the only explanation he could offer at the moment. There hadn't been much of an opportunity to talk until now- Carter and Hoffmann had remained unconscious the whole trip, Klein was suffering from blood loss, and Wagner had gone mute.

"Here." Hogan dug into his pocket and pulled out his micro-camera. "This needs to be developed so we can send it off to London."

He tossed it to Kinch, but Newkirk intercepted it. "I'll develop it," he said firmly. Though he knew how to develop film, it was rarely Newkirk's job. His tone, however, left little room to argue. Honestly, he was doing Kinch a favour. Hogan himself wished he had never seen the images captured on that film.

Hogan shuddered. As far as he could tell, Carter and Hoffman appeared normal, albeit unconscious. But would that change? Would they also become monstrosities like Weiss? Or worse?

Wilson arrived in record time. Hogan beckoned for him to follow him. Wilson's first reaction was to go towards Klein who looked the worst with his bloodied shoulder, but Hogan quickly redirected him towards Hoffmann.

"What happened?" Wilson asked as he began his examination.

Wagner opened his mouth but quickly shut it and looked down into his hands.

"Wagner?" Hogan asked. Wagner just shook his head.

"They injected them with something," Klein explained before Hogan could press Wagner further. "I don't know…" Klein licked his lips and shook his head as if to clear it. His words were slightly more slurred when he continued, "I don't know what it was, but it looked like it hurt. I guess they were waiting to see… waiting to see what happened before they did anything to me and… and Wagner. And then… and then they put them in this room. And that's when…" Klein trailed off and leaned back against the wall. "S'okay. M'kay."

Hogan frowned. The sergeant was decidedly _not_ okay. But, unfortunately for him, he was currently lower on the triage list.

It didn't look like Wagner was ready to finish the story, but at least he could be useful. Hogan grabbed a box of bandages from a nearby shelf and tossed it to him. "Put some pressure on Klein's shoulder, will you?" The box hit Wagner in the chest and dropped into his lap but he didn't move to pick it up. Wilson furrowed his brow and frowned. After a moment, Olsen went over and quickly applied a bandage over the makeshift dressing they had fashioned for Klein in the truck.

Hogan turned his attention back to Wilson. "Well, what do you think?"

Wilson cast a wary glance over the injured men and grunted in frustration. "What do I think? I don't know what to think. What were they injected with?"

"We took some pictures of formulas," Hogan told him. "But it looked complicated. I'm not sure any of us could make heads or tails of it." Not for the first time, Hogan found himself wishing he had taken at least one of the doctors with them- they could explain what was going on.

Wilson pursed his lips and put his hands on his hips. "That's not helpful." He heaved a sigh. "All right, you-" he pointed to Olsen and then paused, curling his finger back in as he eyed Wagner. Then he turned his finger to Hogan. "You, out. I'll do what I can for these two and let you know."

That didn't sound very hopeful, but there was nothing else that could be done. Hogan knew better than to argue with Wilson, especially when he was this frustrated.

Hogan paused in the doorway but then ducked out of the infirmary and went to join LeBeau and Kinch in the radio room. There, LeBeau was telling Kinch everything he knew- which, admittedly, was not much.

"Colonel, what if Hoffmann and Carter end up like Weiss? That's not something we can hide," Kinch said.

"I know. But… I don't know," Hogan said. He hadn't thought that far ahead. His most immediate concern was that they didn't die. So as long as they survived whatever happened to them in that lab that was enough. They could deal with any other ramifications later.

"What if-" LeBeau started but fell silent. He didn't want to say it. What if they died? And right now, Hogan could only give the same answer: he didn't know. Of course, he would figure it out. He would have to. The operation couldn't just fold up, no matter who fell in the line of duty. Even he was replaceable.

There was nothing to do now but wait. As usual, Hogan took to pacing. LeBeau sat on Kinch's desk, dangling his legs and occasionally punching his hand while Kinch absently-mindedly doodled on his notepad. At some point, Newkirk emerged from the dark room and wordlessly handed Hogan a long, thin manila envelope. Hogan tucked it into his jacket pocket. Then Newkirk sat next to LeBeau and magically pulled out a deck of card, shuffling them nervously.

Finally, Wilson appeared in the hall and everyone stopped to watch him as he came into the radio room. No one said anything, simply waiting for his report.

"Klein's going to be okay," he said. "He was lucky the bullet went right through. I can fix him up, but he's lost a lot of blood, so a transfusion wouldn't be a bad idea."

"Okay. What about Carter and Hoffmann?"

"I don't know what you're expecting, Colonel. Without knowing what happened, all I can do is take a watch and wait approach. Hoffmann's running a high fever. Dangerously high. We're going to have to get him up top into the infirmary so I can keep round-the-clock tabs on him."

"We can tell Klink he has the flu," Hogan suggested.

"Fine," Wilson said flatly.

"And Carter?" Newkirk asked anxiously.

"I don't know. He has a very low-grade fever. Other than that, his vitals check out, and he doesn't have any obvious injury, except his leg but that's not new. Other than being unconscious, he seems fine."

"That's good news!" LeBeau cried with relief.

"Yeah…" Hogan said slowly. It didn't seem possible. Not after all he had seen and heard.

"I'll keep him under observation," Wilson promised. "He's supposed to be in the cooler?" At that, Hogan nodded. "Just as well. We'll keep him isolated in there until we can get a handle on what's going on. The less people these two are exposed to, the better."

"All right," Hogan said, blowing out a breath. There was a lot to do and, while part of him wanted to crumble under the weight of everything that had gone wrong, there wasn't time for that. There was never time for that.

"LeBeau, go look up Klein's blood type and scrounge up a donor," Hogan ordered. "Wilson, once he's taken care of, we'll go up and talk to Klink about getting Hoffmann into the infirmary while Olsen and Newkirk get him out of the tunnels. Kinch-" he took the envelope out and dropped it onto the desk. "Mark this top secret and then get on the horn with London and tell them to send a sub. Tell them we have some prisoners and even though they don't know anything, we have plenty enough information on Stone Breaker to pass along. Enough to keep them satisfied anyway."

"On it."

"Wait."

Everyone stopped and looked over to see Carter standing in the doorway of the infirmary. He looked haggard, but resolute.

"Andrew!" Newkirk exclaimed.

"Carter, you're-" Hogan started. Wilson cut him off with a tsk and hurried over.

"What are you doing up? Why do none of you ever stay put? Go back to bed and let me look you over," Wilson ordered.

Carter waved him off. "I'm okay. I think…" He seemed to doubt himself for a moment as he touched his chest, but then squared his jaw. "Yeah, I'm okay."

"You are not. Go lie down," Wilson said.

Carter shook his head and pushed past him, hobbling towards the radio room. "Colonel, you can't send that information off to London."

A frown tugged at Hogan's lips. He really ought to have ordered Carter to listen to Wilson and go back to bed. Or at least ask how he was really feeling. Or, better yet, ask him what the hell had happened in that lab. But, instead, he found himself asking, "Why?"

"Because… you just can't!" Carter exclaimed. Squeezing his eyes shut, he put a first to his forehead. Then, he let out a breath and looked at Hogan, eyes hard with determination. "Colonel, they were trying to make super men. Gods."

"We know that," Newkirk said when Carter didn't continue.

"No… But…" Carter struggled to come up with his words. "You can't… no one can…" Carter looked more and more frustrated. "It's just… you can't count on every god being benevolent."

LeBeau cocked his head to the side. "What do you mean?"

"I think," Kinch said soberly, "he means that once you hand that kind of power to someone, you can't take it back. Once you make one group the übermenschen, they'll inevitably decide who the untermenschen are. And," Kinch continued in a low voice, "the Nazis aren't the only ones with ideas about that."

The words stung because Hogan couldn't refute them.

"Maybe if they perfect it, they'll use it on a good group. But what if they don't?" Carter asked. "What if there's one bad egg?"

"Absolute power, Colonel," Newkirk said slowly. "Do you trust anyone with that?"

Colonel Hogan picked up the envelope and turned it over, inspecting it as the words sunk in. Ultimately, it was his choice. Whether they agreed or not, his men would follow his orders. Time and again, they had proven they were loyal to a fault.

It was a lot of power, Hogan realized. And he knew well his obligation not to abuse it. But he also knew not everyone shared his sense of responsibility. He had met enough insufferable officers to know that. Would he trust any of them to lead an army of supermen? To be supermen themselves?

Then again, it would make defeating Germany that much easier. Save thousands, maybe even tens of thousands of lives.

But then what? Would they just go quietly into the night? Or would they find a new enemy?

There would always be a new enemy, a new cause to justify tyranny so long as men sought power and dominion over each other. But even the well-intentioned couldn't be trusted; there had been many tyrants and despots throughout history who promised utopia, only to wreak death and destruction in its pursuit. And none of them had had the power Stone Breaker promised.

"Colonel," Carter implored gently.

Without a word, Hogan reached over and opened the desk drawer. He pulled out a lighter and lit the corner of the envelope. He watched it burn for a moment and then dropped it into the waste basket.

"Hang London," he said, echoing Newkirk's earlier words.

There would be hell to pay, but hang London just the same. He would deal with it and face the consequences. He had a feeling that getting chewed out was the lesser of two evils.

"Are you done?" Wilson said after they finished watching the envelope burn. "Good. You!" he pointed right at Carter. "Into bed!"

"But I'm-"

"Now!"

Carter ducked his head sheepishly and shuffled back to the infirmary. "And someone get me that damn donor!" Wilson bellowed as he followed Carter. "I swear it's a wonder you're not all dead. Why, if I had absolute power-" Wilson's voice trailed off as he disappeared behind the curtained door.

There was a moment of silence as Hogan and his men sat to contemplate what had just happened. But time was wasting and while Wilson _didn't_ have absolute power, he could still make their lives miserable.

"All right, let's get to it."

* * *

Many hours later, Hogan was in the tunnels, holding his ear piece slightly away from his ear. Without divulging too many details, Hogan had told them that they had destroyed the facility housing Project Stone Breaker but had been unable to obtain any information or a scientist. Half an hour later, London was still yelling at him.

"We did our best," Hogan said when there was a pause.

"Obviously your best isn't what it used to be," their London contact snipped. "And you're only four months in!"

"The Nazis won't be making a super army," Hogan said evenly. "That's the important thing."

" _We_ decide what's important, Papa Bear." Hogan didn't reply and waited for London to continue. "Very well. This will be discussed. Goldilocks, out."

With a sigh, Hogan set down the radio equipment and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I think you made the right choice, Colonel," Kinch said as he shut his radio off.

"Yeah. Yeah, maybe," Hogan said. "Time will tell." He tapped Kinch's desk. "All right, get up top. I'll be along in a minute."

"Sure thing, Colonel."

Hogan waited for him to leave and then slipped into another room. Racks of uniforms and clothing greeted him. Hogan grabbed the SS coat he had been wearing earlier and dug into the pocket. Carefully he pulled out the three vials he had swiped from the laboratory earlier that day. He contemplated them for a moment and then moved to the rubbish bin. His hand hovered over it. But instead of dropping the vials, Hogan slipped them into his pocket.

Just in case.


	22. Trust Not

"So, any urges to leap over tall buildings in a single bound?"

Carter rolled his eyes. "Har, har."

Down in the tunnels, he and Newkirk were playing a game of gin at Kinch's desk. After declaring him in good health, Wilson had lifted his quarantine a few days ago. However, he was still serving his sentence in the cooler, so any fraternizing had to take place down in the tunnels. The guys took turns keeping him company since Klink wasn't budging on the length of his punishment and, as the colonel was fond of saying, thirty days in solitary was a cruel and inhuman punishment, to be inflicted only by a sadist.

"How's your leg?" Newkirk asked.

"S'okay. Looks pretty ugly now that the bruises have changed colour, but not bad," Carter replied. "How's Klein?" he asked as he threw down a card.

"Last I heard, he was on the mend," Newkirk replied.

Carter hesitated. "And Hoffmann?"

Newkirk scooped up Carter's discard. "Touch and go for a while. But his fever finally broke yesterday. And he hasn't been going faster than a speeding bullet, so I think it should all be good."

"Looks like Stone Breaker was bunk," Carter said as he dropped another card.

"Least the batch they used on you lot," Newkirk concurred. He went quiet, his eyes darting away as if remembering something. But he quickly snapped out of it and grinned. "Ha! Gin!" he exclaimed, throwing down his hand triumphantly.

Carter blinked in surprise. "Wait. What?!"

"Read them and weep as the saying goes," Newkirk crowed. "All right, count them up, count them up."

"Twenty-one," Carter declared, frowning. How had Newkirk beaten him? Again? This was the third game he had won. "Are you cheating?"

"Me?" Newkirk asked, aghast. "You know I don't cheat my mates, Andrew. I won that lot fair and square."

"Sure," Carter scowled.

Newkirk frowned at the sudden tension in the air. He checked his watch and then tidied up the cards. "That's all for today then. Got to get to roll call. I imagine someone will be popping in to check on you soon." Carter stayed silent, still fuming over his loss. Newkirk cleared his throat. "Good night then." And with that he pocketed his cards and climbed up the ladder.

When he had gone Carter jumped to his feet and stormed down the tunnel. He didn't know why he was so mad. It was just a lousy card game and he was allowed to have rotten luck once in a while. Hell, bad luck was the norm for him. He knew that. At least, he did in his head. But an all-consuming anger burned in his heart and grew with every step. It swirled around his chest and flooded his stomach until it shot into his hand. With a growl, Carter punched the hard-packed dirt wall.

Resting his forehead against the wall, he took a few shaky breaths to steady himself.

This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all. He needed to figure out what was going on and get control over it because, whatever it was, it was dangerous.

Slowly, Carter pulled his fist out of the deep hole he had made in the wall. He looked at his hand and flexed it, turning it from front to back. Not a mark.

Just like his leg.

Carter jammed his hand into his pocket and, with a little more self-control, started again on his way to the cooler.

"Bunk."

It had to be. Because he didn't trust himself with that kind of power.

The End


End file.
